Justice League: To Lie In Straw Houses
by The Sulkier Clown
Summary: As a humanitarian crisis tears through Man's World, Wonder Woman comes face to face with the levels of depravity and despair that can befall its people. With innocent lives on the line, Diana finds she's up against more than she bargained for, and must do whatever it takes to protect those who can't protect themselves. Especially with love itself also at stake…#WonderBatSecretCupid
1. 1: Unless Home Is The Mouth of A Shark

_**A/N:**_

_**Howdy friends! So I got roped into the latest WonderBat event organised by the wonderful LadyLiteration on the Twittersphere, despite having not even finished the last event or updated "Shadows in the Dark" for ages... So here it is! Part 1 of 5. The rest should follow over the next couple of weeks.**_

_**But just who is the lucky nominee that I got told I had to write for...?!**_

* * *

**1: …Unless Home Is The Mouth Of A Shark**

The clicking of cameras, the flashes of bulbs.

The gathered masses aligned up the ornate, stone steps.

The baying mob, the hurled questions.

The accusations, the doubts.

The harsh truths.

**_…_**

_"Have you any idea what you're going to say to them?"_

**_…_**

Words spoken many hours earlier still rattled through her mind. Words that still resonated. Because, even stood there, closing in, she still didn't have the words.

**_…_**

_"All I can do is speak from the heart," she had replied, a bit of a shrug and a shake and a sigh accompanying her voice. She'd took a sip from the mug, the morning coffee he'd given to her. It was about as far as he ever went in the kitchen, but in their current state of propriety, Alfred rarely made his presence known until later. "And hope that it's enough. That the people are prepared to listen."_

**_…_**

"Wonder Woman, are the reports true of what you're going to say in your speech?"

"-expect only others to bear the burden–?"

"When is Themyscira going to open its borders to these people–?!"

"-practise what you preach-!"

"-**hypocrite**-!"

**_…_**

_He too had sighed. "If only this world was ready for your optimism… Diana, the world has been arguing over this for a long time. Even when they can see the right thing to do is. But unless the grounds are inarguable, no one wants to be the one left to bear the weight. They're afraid."_

_"Afraid?" She hadn't expected him to use that word. These people…they were broken. Running. Scared. Trying to survive._

_"Yes, afraid," he had reiterated. "They're afraid of the corruption these people are running from, that the darkness they came from could spread. A fear that blinds them to how real that threat actually is. Afraid of the effort they might have to put into helping these people. Afraid of the change. Of anything different. Of sacrificing their own prosperity. Of sharing it."_

_"Even if it can help others?"_

_She had spoken with incredulity. The resultant smile on his face was the last thing she'd expected._

_"Having the League be the first people of Man's World you met might have left your standards a bit too high, Princess."_

**_…_**

Diana paused, unable to just march straight through the masses watching her go. Her head dropped, looking down at the stone steps beneath her feet, ignoring the ongoing sounds of whirring cameras. At least there was a silence to the endless barrage of questions being thrown her way as the gathered world media stopped in anticipation of her answers.

But for a while, Diana only looked down. When she did look up, it was only to look to the sky. The beating of the Sicilian sun, the beauty of this island she had seen on her way here… In its own way, it had been somewhat reminiscent of Themyscira, of paradise. But then, that was part of the problem… Sometimes this world was more like home than Diana cared to admit.

**_…_**

_"People don't like being told what to do either, Diana." He had also said that to her, back in the kitchens of the Manor. Back in the morning of that day, when there had been nothing but the two of them and the thoughts of what was to come. Back when this moment had been one of ideals and desires and not the pains of reality. "Especially when it's something they're looking for any and all excuses not to do. When they don't want to sacrifice. They're going to resist you. Hippolyta's ways…"_

_He hadn't had to finish that sentence. It was a notion she had already considered. Her mother. The mother she loved. The mother who had served the Amazon people so well for millennia. Whose policies had been born of necessity and lived to see the Amazon's prosper._

_A prosperity unshared…. Just as he had said. But one of necessity…_

_"I know," was all she had been able to say in response to him. Her heart was torn. Her eyes were opening. On Themyscira, everything was bright and full of colour. Everything was so clear. Perhaps, ultimately, that was the only real difference to Man's World. Because here, everything was all lost in the shades of grey. "The use Themyscira's isolation against me. Against them."_

**_…_**

"Wonder Woman? Those who made the journey across the sea… The issue. What is your message to the people? What are you here to tell the assembly?"

The sound of her moniker made her finally look away from that sun, from the skies as blue as home. She looked across to the speaker, the nearest of all the reporters stood on the stone steps to the Catanian basilica. To all the other crowds around the renaissance era square. To the protestors, the proponents and the opponents. To the law enforcement officers manning the barricades to keep the peace. The force of strength keeping the public voice in its place…

Whichever way she looked at it, whichever way she looked she was seeing people opposing one another. A people far from united. No, she was wrong earlier. There were more differences between this place and Paradise. There were just less of them than she had previously ever wanted to admit.

Finally, her eyes settled on that first reporter again, looking her square in the eye. To truly get her message across, she had to make sure she was heard. Here on the steps was not the time for speeches. That would come later, inside the basilica to the assembled representatives. And later still to the people, if needs be. For now, what she needed was impact, to grab people's attention. To make them want to here. She needed brevity as she finally gave her answer. Because if there was one thing she stood for above all others…

"The truth."

**_…_**

_The story had been playing on the news reports again. It was on in the background as they had enjoyed their breakfast together. But it was a report slipping to the background too often. Too often the stories were told. Too often people had ceased to listen. Too often had they become numb to its message. Too often had they allowed themselves to forget the pain of their fellow men, of their fellow women, of their kindred children. Too often had they accepted this as a normality. And, as a result, too often had they convinced themselves that nothing must be done._

_But the latest crisis amongst the crises had been too much._

_Nairomi. Stuck out on the Eastern Horn of Africa, it was a desolate land that had been besotted by war for as long as Diana knew it existed. Warlords, generals, factions of their own military splintered against each other. It was always Nairomians against Nairomians. And it was always oh so savage. The UN, the Western world, any kid with a keyboard, everyone denounced what happened out there, but an internal conflict with the worlds leading powers each backing different sides meant that ultimately no one could do a thing. Even the Justice League were powerless, unable to interfere in such political turmoil lest sacrifice their necessary role as impartial defenders of all the Earth._

_Which meant the people on the ground were left to suffer. And suffer they did. Some of the stories that came out of that country were truly heart-breaking. The barbaric assaults, not caring which civilians got caught in the middle. The criminality of soldiers allowed their immorality in exchange for selling their souls to the fighting. The minefields, devoid of any sense of guilt or innocence in their destruction. The crops stolen or burnt, leaving people starving and broken, fed only by desperate supply runs from the outside. Famine, and the spread of disease. Civilians, men, women, the innocent, the peaceful. Children. No one was spared the turmoil, the anguish._

_There was only one escape. To flee._

_And the people of Nairomi, the people fed up with the fighting, had done that in their hundreds. If not their thousands._

_But that was not the end of their torment. Because in leaving their homes, they had to find new ones. But in order to achieve that, they needed somewhere to go. Somewhere to take them in. A place where they could find a new life. A better life. A life of hope, and health, and prosperity, and chance. Some had stayed in Africa fleeing simply to the neighbouring nations. But the rest, the many, had fled north, to the Mediterranean and across the sea._

_The crossing was dangerous, though. Very dangerous. Without legal charter, they travelled however they could, on whatever boats would take them. Several were known to have sunk to the bottom of the sea, taking all hands with them. Others washed up on the European shores in pieces, leaving already weak and sick passengers even closer to the edge._

_But even those who did make it across in one piece didn't achieve the dream they sought. Deemed illegal entrants but the situation in Nairomi leaving the nations unwilling to extradite, migrant camps had sprung up across Europe, places where all the people found arriving on the shores were put, left and abandoned. Infrastructure was severely lacking to provide anything better, in part due to how stretched the countries were by other issues, in part due to simply unreadiness. And so the camps had been the quick and dirty answer. Camps which, by all accounts could oftentimes be no better than the villages these people fled from. Cramped conditions helping spread disease, minimal clean water, food spread thin, poor sewage facilities, homes little more than old storage containers, tents or assembled junk. Not all of them, of course, plenty of places and people did want to help how they could. But without full government backing, without acceptance of these people to their land, there was very little that the good people could do._

_Which meant that hundreds, if not thousands of migrants were left locked in the camps. These people had fled war, and found themselves treated like criminals._

_Of course, some actually were. A balanced view had to be maintained, and in some incidences it was true. Not all, not even most, but some. It happened when people were desperate. The measures those few would take to get away, the extreme lengths they would go to did not paint their fellow refugees in good light. Hijacking, kidnap, smuggling, drug trafficking, in some cases even murder. Whatever it took to get out of Nairomi, but often exactly the kind of thing that could prevent anyone else accepting them in. Because the most desperate of times had been known to show what was truly in one's soul, who they really were. And those isolated few were letting the majority down big time. Providing exactly the kind of justification why other nations would not wish to let all refugees through unconditionally. The reasoning why, above all, the course of law must remain._

_But finding the right balance between the law and morality was always easier said than done._

_And that was all without accounting for how the countries these people were fleeing to already had their own to look after. People who they already had a duty of care to, and who meant they couldn't always pick up the slack where others had failed. While the economic arguments had always been nothing but the foolhardy greed of man to Diana, she at least understood that the system left them with limitations, not to mention the resource constraints. Especially when it was only a select few being asked to carry the weight amongst so many more. In a time when nations increasingly stood alone, it seemed like only a united world could truly solve such crises. All of which meant that, no matter how strong the humanitarian pull may be for the nations of the world, it made it even more impossible for the Mediterranean nations to provide the sanctuary those migrants desperately sought._

_All added together, there were all kinds of arguments that could be made. Regardless, what was happening wasn't right, it couldn't be the final answer. There had to be a better way, a way to do right by the innocent merely seeking hope, for the chance at a decent life again. Another fact recognised the whole world over. But finding the answer wasn't as easy as it would sound. The entire United Nations were coming together to try to find that solution. The conference in Sicily had been called, with Diana herself set to represent Themyscira during the talks._

_Her chance to solve a crisis with words instead of fists, to be an emblem of peace instead of a tool of war. Only she didn't know what to say._

_Fear. That was what he had called it, the source of the problem, the reason why the Nairomians were not being automatically accepted as fellow men and women in a new land. There were a lot of complexities sprouting from it, but at the base of them all was a fear. Just as the fleeing migrants were afraid, the developed world was afraid of what letting these people into their nations could do. Of sharing their individual prosperities. Of risking even a fraction of the chaos of Nairomi spreading to their lands with the Nairomians._

_A fear that Diana simply couldn't argue with on its fundamental levels, not with it being underpinned by the very same feelings that had kept Themyscira isolated for so very long, surrounded by the ultimate of walls. An isolation her mother had already taken steps to reaffirm in spite of the current crisis._

_But it was a fear Diana couldn't simply stand by and accept when it left hundreds if not thousands of people in those camps. When she so desperately felt the need to tear those walls down and build the bridges needed to help those people._

_Hence her conflict. Her hypocrisy. Her inability to find the words she so desperately sought. Her heartbreak._

**_…_**

"And what is that truth?!" The question was hurled at her from the crowd again, Diana needing a moment to identify the journalist amongst the mass of media people. Stood at the bottom of those stone steps, it was a man whose face showed strong aggression. Höveling, the name on his credentials. A desperation and a frustration the feelings bubbling from his heart. But both born of a sadness. Several of the baying mob seemed out for blood. This man seemed like what he really wanted was to help, like what he had seen had broken him. And had made him forget decorum and patience. "When Themyscira takes in no one begging for help. Not even the children. When the land you present as Paradise, as the light, as the beacon to follow, closes itself down to the world. What is the 'truth' you've come here to spread? What are your lies?! How are you actually going to help these people?"

"Wait, let's not sanctify these people before we begin!" Another voice called out from the crowd before Diana could answer, another pause to pick out the speaker, another set of media credentials acting as a name tag; Gallois. "Don't forget, they have broken the law. Just in getting here without proper visas and travel documents, they have broken the law. Not to mention whatever else they may have done to get here. We've heard the stories of the lengths some of the migrants took to get away. We've seen the official reports. There are criminals amongst them. And what is happening in Nairomi can only be systematic of its people. There is the question of what such people could do to the harmony of the lands they now impose themselves upon. Not to mention the economic pressures it will put on all nations who agree to help, who are _already _taking in as many refugees as they can bear from across the globe. The welfare state is not what it was in many countries, the biting of unemployment and austerity. In fact, I think only a _paradise_ could truly help these people without cutting off their own hand to do it. So, Wonder Woman, I too echo my esteemed colleague's question, only my tone is different. How are you going to help _all_ the people, and not just the ones from the boats?"

Again, though, the worlds failed her. She had no response. She could not respond. She could only feel the weight of the world get ever stronger on her shoulders. She could only feel the ever so faint welling in her eye. People were hurting, or people were angry, or people were lost in all the chaos. Or a bit of all three. And none were right for the world. But she didn't know how to stop it. How to fix it…

Her head bowed momentarily, again looking to those steps, as if to find solace in the coldness of the grey. As she looked up again, it was only to briefly look Höveling in the eye, then Gallois in turn. To say just three simple words before turning on her heel and once again traipsing up towards the Basilica and the meeting that lay beyond.

"However I can…"

But even as she stepped, even as she moved to try and do the right thing, words continued to be hurled at her. She may have been dressed in her ambassadorial garb, but her armour, her bracelets, they were worn underneath. Yet even they would struggle to deflect what was being thrown at her, every last word sinking in like a knife in her spine…

**_…_**

_Her ambassadorial outfit had been across the room, hung behind the door to the kitchen of the Manor, ready and waiting for her. Closer and strewn across one of the dining chairs, her armour had also been laid out for her to put on. Only the bracelets that never came off had currently been worn. The bracelets and his pressed white shirt, leaving her long, slender legs on full display underneath._

_And beside her in the kitchen, he had stood there, shirtless with his garment stolen. A hangover of the night before, together in that place, in his home. Wayne Manor._

_Bruce._

_"Hera, Bruce. What do I do?" she had practically begged of him. It wasn't something she would normally do. She would not debase herself like that to any man. But Bruce wasn't just any man. "When you can see both sides of the argument but no answer. When you can see what's wrong but not how to put it right. I know where my mother is coming from, I understand the hesitancy, the resistance. I can't call her attitude wrong, and so neither can I objectively call the other nations wrong. But I can't turn my back on these people. So what do I do…? What would you do…?"_

_Bruce had taken a moment to respond, a time to gather his thoughts, but he had not taken long. His mind worked in ways different to others, quicker. Even if they weren't the words others wanted to here, he normally didn't struggle to find some. A fact Diana was envious of._

_"It isn't an issue that can solved in darkness. It isn't a battle for Batman, I know that much. It must be solved from the light. But there is no easy answer, Diana. Better men than I have looked for it many times over and failed. But…you are no man…"_

_He hadn't had to explain a statement that could have easily been oversimplified. It was there in his eyes. He had been telling her that he believed in her. It indeed hadn't been an answer, but it had been faith. It had been confidence that she would find it. And while she had still felt the burden, it at least felt a little softer knowing that he truly believed she could carry it. That she could find a way where no one else could._

_Hera, he was a good man…_

_She had been unable to help it, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. But while she had done so, she had also been careful how to touch him, to not pull him where he stood. Just as they had had to be careful with him for days now, weeks. Ever since the last big assault on Gotham, ever since he had once again come so close to sacrificing everything to save her people._

_The bandages wrapped around his otherwise bare torso were a painful reminder, the sling that was still pinning his right arm up against his chest. Luckily, enough time had passed for the healing to begin. The bleeding had long stemmed, his energy returning. But these had been wounds even Batman could not overcome with determination alone. Even now, his mobility was threatened, the risk of permeant damage still clinging to him. Only further surgery could prevent lasting damage to his arm and shoulder, and while Batman was a lone wolf, even he could not strive while being literally singlehanded._

_"When is it you have to go…?" she had gently asked there as they had stood so close together, as they had missed out on doing for so long. As they also would be separated soon, for no matter how short term._

_It was public knowledge that Bruce Wayne was going to have surgery, a clever cover story long weaved around the public since Gotham's latest reckoning. A surgery and recovery period long since planned for Gotham's favourite son. Cameras would be following him every bit as much as they had her. All in all, it not only meant he couldn't stand by her at the conference, couldn't even be at the end of the phone for most of the time. She had wished it, but he was being forced to stand her up and leave them with only upcoming silence. Yet Diana had known, in her heart, that despite the risk to his health, he would have delayed it all to be there for her today if he could. He hadn't had to say it._

_"Alfred's going to be driving me to the clinic as soon as you leave. I didn't have to twist his arm too much to give us that long, at least. Bruce Wayne being fashionably late to an appointment ought to be expected by now. But if I could give you longer, Diana… I'm sorry I won't be there with you as you take to the stand, but know you'll have my full support. Whatever you decide, whatever action you say is needed. Whatever solution you deem is right and fair for all. The Justice League, Batman… They can't be political. But the Wayne Foundation is always prepared to help a good cause. I may not be with you at the conference, on that stage, but solving this crisis is not all on your shoulders. You do not stand alone."_

_Passion had almost taken over her again at that point. The urge to kiss him had rose up in her again and this time, while still being careful not to hurt him, she hadn't held back. His words were moving, touching, loving. Helpful._

_But not the full answer._

**_…_**

The answer she still needed. The answer she hadn't been able to find, even with Bruce's promise to hand.

The answer she was desperate for.

Up ahead, the security teams at the basilica were holding the journalists at bay, keeping her a path clear to the opening doors into the basilica, to the conference beyond. To her chance to help people in need, to find hope again. The time was almost on them, even if the answer was not… Leaving Diana having to whisper the silent prayer as the building's innards loomed ever nearer like an onrushing freight train coming to try and mow her down.

"Hera, please. What do I do…?"


	2. 2: If Wishes Were Horses

_**A/N:**_

**_Some of you may be wondering what brief I was given as part of the #WonderBatSecretCupid event. I'll show it you at the end of the story. Let's just say I may have twisted it more than a little..._**

**_As for who this one was for... I think the secret may be out by now. That one might be a tad more guessable... Right, my friend? It's always you!_**

* * *

**2: If Wishes Were Horses**

"Look, I'm telling you, we're old friends, the Ambassador and I. There's no way she'd shut me out. If you tell her it's me out here…"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but your credentials shouldn't even have allowed you this far into the basilica. The Ambassadorial rooms are private and personal for the during of the conference, and that should be respected by all members of the press. Now please move away, before you force me to move you away."

Ermilo Iaquinta, the duty security personnel, loomed over her, making full use of his extra height. His face was cragged with experience as he stood between her and the other room, continuing to block her way. For now, anyway. As soon as Wonder Woman heard her voice…

"Its ok, Agent Iaquinta." Sure enough, the door behind him and opened, the world-famous face appearing beyond. The face of just about the one person on the world who shouldn't need any kind of protection. Well, other than Smallville, of course. Gorgeous as ever, and so regal and calm in spite of everything, Diana was a Wonder Woman indeed. Even by her own high standards. "I know Ms. Lane. You can let her through."

"Told you so," Lois said with a wink and a smirk as a reluctant Iaquinta was forced to accept the Ambassador's word, stepping aside with a bow of his head. She'd made it inside, and soon, Diana had the door closing behind them both, leaving them alone at last. Considering the occasion and the occupant, it was a relatively small room Lois found herself in, a mixture between an office and a hotel suite. But it was hardly the décor that she was there for.

"Lois, my sister, it's a pleasure to see you!" Diana was beaming with glee as she followed Lois back into the centre of the room, wrapping her up into a big hug that momentarily took her off guard. The next moment, she caught up enough to give a superhero a hug back. "What brings you out this way to me? Is everything all right?"

"World's best reporter. World's biggest story," Lois replied with a shrug as the pair of them finally moved apart. "Where else would I be?"

Diana smiled again. "I wish I'd seen you earlier. I sure could have used a friendly face on my way in through your colleagues."

"I'm not sure I'd call them all colleagues…" Lois muttered, unable to hide her disdain. "Half of them were only there to pander to the masses, rather than get to the truth of the story. The age of the headline, of social media news. Providing the story isn't as important any more if you can manage to incite the mobs. They play into whatever emotions they can enflame to get more clicks on their websites, more advertising money through their pages. You're just unfortunate enough to get caught up in one of their easiest targets. What with how heated this whole situation is, with every country seemingly ready to close its doors and build up walls, its crazy everywhere. I don't blame you for struggling to find the words. Even after all those Pulitzer's, I know I've got none."

She didn't quite mean to say that. She didn't want to hit a nerve, or to make Diana relive what had happened in the chambers below only an hour or so ago. Simply put, Diana had tried to say something good, to do the right thing… But the words simply hadn't been there. The conviction, the inspiration, the creativity, the substance. It was normally radiating with every breath Wonder Woman took, but it hadn't been today. And Lois hadn't needed to speak to any of the other ambassadors or delegates to see that no minds had been changed, no solution agreed. For once, Wonder Woman had failed. And Lois Lane didn't like that.

"I take it that means you aren't here to help refine my language for whenever I'm next given the chance to speak in session, then?" Diana asked, remaining remarkably upbeat despite how all of this was clearly tearing at her heart. And it was equally heart-breaking to Lois that she couldn't tell Diana that she was there to give her the solutions she needed.

"The Daily Planet needs the story. I'm here to do a job," Lois disappointingly had to admit. It made her break eye contact for a second, but only a second. The next moment, she looked back up, a spark of mischief back in her stare. "I'm here to observe, tell the tale and get quotes from all involved. It's not my place to tell anyone what to do here and try to influence the politics. Perry made that clear enough when I got this job ahead of Clark. _But_… If, as part of my job… If I so happened to gently suggest to one of the Ambassadors that maybe it might be inspiring to go and actually speak to some of these migrants, to hear their own stories, to see how they live… Say, at the Cuore dei Beati Antenati camp that recently went up across the Strait of Messina… It was certainly an interesting place when I went there yesterday… So suggesting that; that wouldn't be remiss of me would it?"

She almost actually winked as she said that last part, the hint she was dropping so strong. Even a blind man would be able to see it, and Diana of Themyscira certainly wasn't blind.

"Thank you, Lois."

"For what?" Lois cheerily grinned back, playing deliberately dumb. "Now then, about those quotes… A little bird told me you might be heading out for a spell soon. I don't suppose I can get a few quick words before you go?"

* * *

It was like a shanty town, at its most generous of descriptions. Dirt was everywhere, and prosperity nowhere. There were plenty of homes, but no houses. The structures and hovels were nothing more than old, rusted shipping containers, tents or tarpaulins held up by scraps of metal. No plumbing, no power, no sanitation. Trash littered the walkways, rodents, critters and feral birds scattering around the camp. The only running water came from slow dripping, communal taps, the only lavatories disgusting holes in the ground. Bottled water, food, blankets and medical supplies were limited, the only ones available those handed out by the aid workers from their mobile caravans of offices up at the Northern entrance to the camp. And all around it all was the walls, the fences, the barbed wire laden barriers, making sure that these people could go nowhere except back out into the sea.

The people forced to reside there looked little better. Bedraggled, thin, weak. Most of them looked ill, tired, worn. Desperate. Scared. The clothes hung on their backs dirty and loose, their faces gaunt and sunken. The men and the women, the elderly and the children, it was the same in every face she saw. The fear. Just as Bruce had said. Fear seemed to be everywhere.

Slowly but surely, Diana was making her way through the camp. Lois had called ahead, having a contact among the aid workers who had already allowed her inside once for her stories. It hadn't taken much persuasion at all for her to convince him to let Diana in too now. She must have already been there for the best part of an hour. At first, she had concentrated herself around the aid shelters, around where people gathered for food and water. She had figured that would be where they would be most approachable, most willing to talk. She had figured wrong. Instead, the migrants had shied away, almost as if scared of her, thinking that she might be there to take what little they had. Almost as if experience had taught them that they could trust no-one. Here or in Nairomi.

It wasn't only at the aid huts either. With the aid workers giving her little encouragement, little help to succeed, Diana had taken it upon herself to move away. Something had these people afraid. She had to disassociate herself with it all. Which was why she had dispensed with her ambassadorial garb, revealing her signature armour that resided beneath. And which was why she had begun her march into the depths of those ramshackle hovels these people now called home.

But every step she took, even then, seemed to only be met with more silence. With more watchful eyes, more people who backed away from her, kept their distance, sank back into their hovels. Pulled their possessions close. They were all still afraid of her. The ones with a guilty, shifty look, and the ones who looked completely innocent, it was all the same. Everywhere. Despite the obvious anguish and pain. Despite how much these people clearly needed help. Despite how desperation made them look for it in all the wrong places. It was like, now they had a chance to talk with someone who could make a difference, all that had gone before had left them too afraid to try. All of them. Except–

"You're her. Aren't you?"

The voice came from behind her, making Diana have to stop, caught a little off guard as she quickly looked back over her shoulder. It was a woman stood there. African like the rest, dressed in worn out, mucky reems of cloth like the rest, there was something different about her. Her grey clothes and her hair fully tied up around her head beneath a dull bandana, the eye was immediately drawn to her face. Yet while she looked as tired as the rest, there was something else there still. Spirit. Resolve. Life. And maybe something even more…

"I am Diana of the Amazons, Ambassador of Themyscira and member of the Justice League." She stepped forward as she identified herself, though doing so slowly and calmly so as not to scare this woman off, her voice soft and compassionate. "Do you know of me?"

The woman actually snorted. When she spoke again, it was with the thick accent of her people. "Even in the deepest depths of the African Badlands, everyone knows of Wonder Woman. Of what you've done for our world alongside the others like you. Of what you represent. Your reputation. Of what you can do for us. Or what you can do _to _us…"

"'To you'?" Diana repeated, not expecting that response. "I mean none of you any harm. That's not why I'm here."

"I know," the woman replied with a nod. "Otherwise I would not be brave enough to speak to you now. But I can see it in your poise, your walk. But because of that I am left wondering; why are you here?"

"To try to help you," Diana simply answered with honesty. "To understand what has happened to you, what is still happening to you, and what you desire to happen next. To understand the truth of this crisis so that I can work with you and the governments to find a solution for all. I must admit, I am struggling to come to terms with what that solution might be. We have heard much of the plight of your people, but a good friend recently pointed out to me how little anyone has tried to actually talk to you. To understand you properly, of what you all need. Because there can be no perfect solution unless it gives you what you need. I'm here to learn what it is in your hearts."

"Fear." That word again. Just as Bruce had before, this woman was immediately adamant that people were afraid. That they were motivated by that fear and that fear alone. "Only fear. Fear of the war we have all ran from. Fear of the corruption that seems to follow us everywhere we go. Fear of famine, disease. Of dying in this place. My people are at a crossroads, Wonder Woman. This is not a way for us to live. We cannot stay in this camp forever. Already the next round of desperate actions are being taken. Every day we wake to find someone else from the camp has disappeared. Smuggled out into the mainland. Fleeing back across the ocean having not found their dream. Or worse. I do not wish think about the kinds of prices my people are paying for only seeking to live. Getting here was bad enough. Now, at the mercy of the traffickers and smugglers… One day people are here, the next they are gone. Fled… or taken. We are at the mercy of these men, Wonder Woman. The government. The aid agencies. Ambassadors. Heroes. Traffickers. Slavers. Criminals. We are all afraid."

Diana listened to every word, and with each syllable she felt more and more of this woman's pain. But she also found it strengthening her resolve. "Then its time we changed that. Help me. Help me to help you. We can make this right, if only we stand together. And I'm right here now, standing with you."

By that point, Diana and the woman were face to face and up close. It meant Diana could see every line of her features as she took pause. As she thought, considered. And then as she nodded.

"I believe you, Diana of the Amazons. My name is Amara Tesheme Etefu, of the Nairomian village Olileanya, and I believe you. And I will help you. Come, step inside, and I shall tell you everything else you might wish to know."

The woman, Amara, gestured in to her cargo container home as she spoke. But Diana was quick to smile in appreciation of the gesture, nodding as she took the important step through the dark threshold into the metal shell that lay beyond.

As her eyes adjusted, she instantly saw that the innards were no more impressive than what was outside. Woodworm ridden, rickety chairs. An old mattress full of broken springs in the corner for a bed. Metal pans sat around a rudimental fire for any food preparation. And against one of the rusted walls, an assortment of personal effects that were clearly most important to these people, things that had travelled with them all the way from Africa. But none of that was what was really eye catching.

Instead, that was the man suddenly standing from one of those chairs as soon as he saw Diana coming. Tall, bearded, he looked like he had a naturally powerful frame that had been beaten down by years of unwilling neglect and hardship. A fact emphasised by just how much he was struggling to rise from that chair, a pair of cobbled together crutches grasped tight as he tried to heave himself up. It didn't take much looking to see the source of his struggles. One leg was gone above the knee, with the shorts he wore showing off the full array of scar tissue around there too. It didn't take a genius to realise that the civil war of Nairomi had been the cause.

But more importantly, compassion and empathy took Diana as she quickly stepped forward to this man's side, helping him up to his full height and to a position of balance to save him from the struggle and the undoubted pain.

"Thank you…" the man breathed at her with a small grateful smile through the grimace. "A souvenir I picked up from a landmine back home, I'm afraid. A blast that killed my friend, and left me lucky that I was left with this much of me."

"Walif, this is Princess Diana, the Wonder Woman," Amara spoke up from behind Diana as she followed her inside. "She's come to learn of our struggle so she can try to help us. Wonder Woman, this is Walif Melaku Dagmawi, my life partner."

"And a perfect example of exactly what our struggle looks like," Walif retorted with dry, self-depreciating humour. Diana immediately liked this man. It already seemed that, despite everything, his spirit also remained strong, his ability to find a smile.

"A pleasure to meet you Walif," Diana greeted, taking his hand as he raised it ever so slightly from his crutch for just that brief moment. "Though I must say, I admire your strength and convictions to have made the tough journey to get here."

"I wouldn't have if not for Amara," Walif shrugged off the praise. "She is my strength, my inspiration, my motivation. My reason to get out of there alive. Not only did she carry me most of the way here, not only has she nursed me ever since my accident, but if not for her, I would almost certainly have stayed in Nairomi to meet my fate."

"And you are my reason to survive as well, my love," Amara concurred quickly. She'd stepped right forward, now at Walif's other side, and planting a quick and loving kiss on his cheek. The eyes spoke more though. Diana had seen the spirit in both of their eyes already, but it was like that moment was showing her the fire bruning behind it, the reason for their strength. In that moment, she realised a truth.

It wasn't only fear motivating these people. It was also love…

Eventually, Walif pulled his eyes from his love to turn back to Diana. "I did hear you two speaking outside. I heard what you said Wonder Woman. And all I can tell you is that we came here for a chance to live. That is what we want most. The chance. To have our fate in our own hands without the threat of war and death hung over our heads by men beyond our reach. Not to have to fear starvation and disease. To have the chance to spend our lives together. Where I can protect Amara more than I ever could in Nairomi. And where I can help her to achieve her dreams."

"And I want to be part of a society where I can help Walif to heal as much as he can," Amara added, also looking to Diana. "The medical resources in Nairomi are limited. He won't admit it, but I see how much he's still in pain. Do you know what that's like Wonder Woman? Seeing someone you love suffering, in pain every day. Wouldn't you do anything to help them?"

Diana certainly did know. She was living it that very moment in fact, with Bruce's surgery to save his motion. Her face clearly gave that feeling away, as Amara was continuing before she had even nodded.

"Back home, he has no chance to live. He will be an invalid left to struggle in pain for the rest of his days, forced to do physical work where he cannot without hurting. Here in the North, there is promise. There is a chance that he can find a purpose where his injury will not impair him, and where it can rest and. A chance where together we can earn our way to prosperity, instead of forever being locked in a endless cycle of torment. We're looking for the chance to live our lives, as the Northern world gets to live theirs. The chance to earn that right."

Diana was soon nodding again in understanding. "Those are noble aims. Justifiable aims. Aims free of ill will and partiality. I can appreciate that. But other nations, the places your people flee to… There are arguments behind why they have reluctance to accept you in. Sometimes irrational, prejudicial. Other times not…"

"We've heard those arguments," Amara interrupted, a harsh tone suddenly overcoming her, an element of frustration seeping out. "But please understand, we aren't here looking for handouts. We aren't asking that the people of this land give up any of their own earnings for us. We just want the chance to earn what they have inherited. To earn our own place in a society where our lives can be free and good and safe."

"And together," Walif was quick to add. "Always together. We will work to earn our way, Wonder Woman. Within the confines of law as well. We are not the criminals we have been painted to be. Do not let the examples of a few taint us all. We are good people who were born into hell, and are looking to crawl back out to the Earth. And now we are so close. We just have to open the final gates. Together."

Considering what Themyscira housed beneath the island, that was an analogy that certainly struck home. But more, it was seeing Walif turn to Amara and smile again. Seeing her take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Seeing the look of love they both gave each other again.

That was it. The words the pair had spoken were meaningful, but nothing in them had been unexpected. There was little substance there that Diana hadn't guessed before, when she had been struggling to get to grips with the crisis. When she had been lead to believe that this was all about fear. But now, just seeing these two together, had given her that substance.

Love. Love was the key.

Everyone had been approaching this situation seeing all the negatives. The pain these people were fleeing, the threat of criminality, the reduced prosperity of others. But no one was looking at the positive. At the love that drove people like Amara and Walif. And the love like that Diana had for all beings.

Only in love could she find the answer. And only in love could she find the words.

She couldn't help but smile from ear to ear at that, a new found confidence taking over her. The other pair had clearly noticed too, both looking up at her with a minor look of confusion.

"I think you've both just given me exactly what I need," Diana explained through the smile. "Thank you. Thank you both."

"Our pleasure," Walif responded, still sounding confused as he didn't know what he'd done, but happily taking it.

"Does this mean you can help us?" Amara asked as a follow on.

Diana gave a half shrug. "It means I can try. I cannot promise that people were listen, but I can give you my word that I will try."

"And that is all we can ask for," Amara smiled back. "Now, it would be remiss of me if I didn't at least offer you some tea in return. Will you join us, Diana?"

Diana immediately knew her answer. She didn't need to look down at the depressingly sparse amount of water in their pans by their small stove. "No, I should be getting back to the UN, to spread the message I have heard here today. But I will return. And maybe we could share that drink then."

"I'm already looking forward to it," Walif told her with one last shared smile, and that was that. Giving one last nod, Diana turned and slowly walked away, leaving the pair to their day. That meant that once again, she found herself walking through the camp, heading back to the main entrance to formally sign out as per procedure. But this walk was different to the one in. That had been full of doubt and of fear. Now… Now she was full of confidence and love.

Now she was full of hope again. She had it. She had the way. She hadn't yet the details, but she knew her calling, her way forward, what she had to do. She had hope.

At least, that was, until she heard the screams.

She must have made it about two hundred metres around the large campsite, round a large curving path and past countless shacks, hovels and tents. Past so many watchful migrants. But she knew instantly where the scream had come from, who it had come from.

Amara.

"No," Diana instantly breathed to herself. Thoughts were flashing through her mind in an instant. Amara had spoken of people disappearing, of them being at the mercy of traffickers. Of modern slavery…

Sparing no time to dwell on such thoughts, Wonder Woman ran, using her ounce of her speed to drive herself onwards, back to that shipping container, back towards the screams. If every set of migrant eyes had been on her before, they certainly were know, as every person in the camp seemed to be stepping out to see what was going on. But none rushed forward as she did, fear still gripping them tight.

Her boots skidded though the mud kicking up dirt and stone as she slide to a halt in the open doorway. But as she saw inside, it was only to see Amara's kicking feet as she was dragged off through the hatch at the container's opposite side. One of Walif's fallen crutches left on the deck as he had seemingly already been taken.

And the other crutch, held in the grasp of the man now stood in her way. The stocky man whose entire head and both hands were wrapped in bandage, leaving nothing visible but his eyes. His dark, hollow eyes…

Immediately Wonder Woman stepped forward, prepared to do what it took, already convinced there was no way of solving this without violence. But she had barely taken a single stride forward before the bandaged man had Walif's crutch flung straight at her head. Nonchalantly, Diana threw up on hand to catch it, ready to display her strength and scare this man away by perfectly grasping it from the air. But she had reckoned without a misjudgement. This man looked ordinary. Hidden by bandage but no reason to believe his strength was significantly different from any other human. She had sparred with Batman often enough, she knew the weight of a human throw, the speed and power of the projectile.

This one wasn't ordinary. This man's strength was not ordinary. It was on her faster than she knew. And it momentarily knocked her back as it smashed against her forehead.

There was no pain, no cut, but there was enough of a shock to fleetingly slow Wonder Woman down as the crutch clattered to the floor beside her. For a second, she stared incredulously at the man, the man who had remained unmoved, almost robotically so. The next, she decided she'd had enough.

Hovering ever so slightly into the air, she gave him just the briefest moment to try to run, but he didn't even bother to take it. Then, she slammed herself forwards, flying all of her weight and strength hard as she rammed her shoulder into his torso, knocking him back so hard against the wall of the container that the whole thing rocked and threatened to topple. Touching back down, Wonder Woman then immediately tossed the man towards the floor.

As she did so, she could feel him try to resist. His hands latched out, attempting to grab hold of her, attempting to throw her off. Attempting to do so with the confidence of a man beyond what was reasonable when faced with a powered Amazon warrior. The confidence of a man who knew he had strength beyond his measure.

But not enough. It may have floored a man of this world, but his attempted grasp didn't even whiten Wonder Woman's skin. And so with another clang the bandaged man was thrown unceremoniously to the deck.

No matter how easy that had been though, Wonder Woman knew she couldn't delay. She had no time to toy with him with Walif and Amara in danger. With the hole camp apparently under threat from this man. And so she was immediately moving to grab the lasso from her hip, to bind this man, to tie him up here and leave him here until she had retrieved the kidnapped couple.

But again, the bandaged man wasn't about to let her do so without resistance. It seemed that this time he had finally recognised that he was up against someone that he did not have the strength to fight. It seemed he already knew that he was beaten. And it was instantly apparent that he wasn't prepared to accept that fact.

The cracking sound was the first clue. The bandages hid his mouth, but what Wonder Woman saw the next moment made it clear. He had bitten down on something, some sort of capsule. Even through the bandages, the frothing began to seep from his mouth as his entire body instantly convulsed. There was nothing Wonder Woman could then do but stand back in open eyed horror as whatever the man had just ingested tore through his body. Literally. For before her eyes, it was as if half his body mass was suddenly disappearing, shrinking to nothing but the acrid smell of burning. To say he was dead was an understatement.

To say the sight was horrific would be one too. Not to mention extreme. Even with all the things she had seen and done in her life, even with the stakes, it took Diana a moment to regain her poise, to bite back the sickness that felt like it was spawning in her at the sight. In the end, she had to force herself to turn away. Just as she had to fight back the questions already leaping through her mind about why the man had just taken such an extreme measure to end his own life, why the threat of capture alone would make him do that to himself. There wasn't time to think about that, not even time to vomit. Walif and Amara still needed her.

Uneasy at first but with more assuredness with every stride she took away from the now shrunken corpse, Wonder Woman was once again charging after her new friends, out the far side of the container. What she emerged into was almost like a junkyard. There was limited room to move back there but ample directions, plenty of other containers and tents and dumping grounds surrounding her, even less planning into the hidden side of the camp then the main throughway. At first, Wonder Woman could only stop and stare, looking through each of the gaps between tarpaulins and twisted metals for any sign of which way the abductors might have taken the pair, the bandaged man having at least slowed her down enough to have lost sight of them. The next moment, the sound of squealing tyres told her exactly where she should look.

Instantly, Wonder Woman took flight again, only this time straight up to hover angelically over the camp. A quick scan and she was soon spotting it. The white van, racing away at maximum speed, its rear doors slamming shut firm as if someone had hurriedly slammed something inside. Racing away so fast it smashed through the entrance barrier, sending the aid workers and security people who had been meant to be guarding it diving out the way to avoid being ran over. Already Wonder Woman could spot some of them getting on radios, phones, no doubt calling the police. But she wasn't about to wait around for them to get there.

The van only made it a short way down the road to the migrant camp before Wonder Woman had swooped down upon it. Coming in low and fast, she drew herself level with its left side, above the screeching, strained rear tyres. Then, careful not to send the whole thing over, she barged her shoulder against its bodywork, making the whole thing wobble as the driver fought to keep control. It was designed as a warning shot, to give the driver the hint that it was time to stop. But it was a hint that wasn't taken.

As soon as it steadied, Wonder Woman saw the front wheels of the van slam to their left just a fraction before the whole vehicle was crashing her way. It gave her just enough time to brace before its full weight hit her full on. But while Wonder Woman was only momentarily knocked off balance in the air, the entire side of the van was left crumpled and dented, metal tearing against her harder skin.

Yet even then, the driver surged on, as if he had any chance of getting away, twisting off down the winding road. It had pulled slightly ahead again as Wonder Woman steadied herself from the impact, but that didn't last long. Once again, she flew herself up high, swooping down on the van like a bird of prey after a meal. And this time, she slammed down against the bonnet of the truck. She felt her heels dig into it, crush down towards the engine, but she didn't keep that weight on. She didn't want to risk flipping it if Walif and Amara were inside.

Instead, she allowed herself to slide off the front, hitting the road but staying upright. Now digging her heels into the asphalt and kicking up composite and stone everywhere. At the same time, she slammed her hands hard against the vans raised front bumper. At first, it was her strength against the van's engine, but that was a battle she easily won as their momentum slowed right down to a halt. But then she continued to push, to lift. Wheels still spinning, the entire front of the van rose into the air, back wheels turning futilely as it was going nowhere. A moment later, Wonder Woman dropped it back down with a satisfying slam. The sound of the cracking front axel and the spluttering death of the now broken engine burst through the air.

Only then did Wonder Woman look up through the heavily cracked windscreen to the driver. He wasn't bandaged up as the other man had been. Instead, he looked small, shallow, weak. The look of fear on his face, his desperate attempts to turn the keys and restart the engine met only by the sounds of failing turnover. A look that made Wonder Woman smile.

Satisfied the van was going nowhere, calmly she walked around to the driver side door. But she didn't open it. Instead, a mere squeeze of her hand between door and chassis left that entrance way sealed. Then, a simple leap across the van and she was doing the same on the passenger side, trapping the driver in there. He seemed to realise it as he desperately scrambled for the handle, only for every pull, every shoulder barge against the frame not to budge those doors open.

That left just one thing left to do. In no time Wonder Woman had stepped round towards the rear. Hardly having to use any of her strength, she soon had the whole rear door ripped off its hinges, ready to release Amara and Walif back to the world, to free them from their captors…

Only to see nothing in the back of the van but boxes and boxes of smuggled goods and supplies…

Diana's heart immediately sank. She'd chased the wrong person. This wasn't it. This man wasn't the kidnapper…

"I give up, ok?" the van driver screamed back from the front, his local accent strong. There was an opening between where he sat and the rear compartment, his scared face looking back at her through it, both hands thrown up in his gesture of surrender. "I bring goods in to the camps! I flog wares to those people, but I hurt nobody! You…you can't hurt me now!"

"And how is it that you expect them to pay you?" Wonder Woman asked him, the anger still present in her voice. Slowly she reached forward, ripping open one of the boxes of goods she saw. This man had ran as he did for a reason. He had already been running before she went after his van. That wasn't the act of an innocent man. The boxes of illegal and highly addictive intoxicants and stolen medical supplies immediately gave her one explanation why. The man's stuttering response gave her another.

"F…favours…"

Looking at him, Wonder Woman could easily tell exactly what he meant by that. She may not be of Man's World or know of its darkness like Bruce and the others, but she had picked up enough to say through his choice of word. And it made her even angrier. He was exploiting people who were desperate in ways far beyond the pale. He was revolting, and deserved every punishment that would be thrown at him. Hera, how Wonder Woman was having to control her rage at him that instant, a part of her wanting nothing more than to tear him limb from limb. But that would solve nothing and, on the distant wind, she could already hear the sirens. This man would be punished, but by the rule of law. She had at least seen to that.

"The police will be with you in moments," she growled at the driver, forcing herself to remain in control but leaving her rage clear. "You give yourself up to them. You tell them _everything_ that you've done. You let them take this evidence. Or I will come back for you."

She didn't wait to hear him confirm he understood, she could see it in his eyes already. In mere seconds, she had beaten all the fight out of him, without even laying a finger on him. He was a pathetic morsel of a man, exactly the kind her mother had warned her of for so long. With nothing else for it, Wonder Woman, slammed the rear doors shut, squeezing it locked as she had the driver's.

There was nothing else for it then. She had lost the trail, she had lost Amara and Walif, and she had lost precious time to recover them, all because of that man and his selfish crimes. Desperately, she took to the air again, once more taking position to hover up above the migrant camp as her eyes scanned everything around her. Desperately, she looked for some sign, any sign of where they might have gone, of someone else fleeing that camp.

But she could see nothing. Nothing. They had become lost to the ether, lost to the distractions. They had disappeared…just as others from the camp had apparently disappeared…

She hung up there for several minutes, not wanting to give up despite it appearing futile. In the end though, there was no option but to sink back down to Earth. Dropping slowly, she found herself landing beside the entrance to Amara's hovel, the despair hanging heavy over her. She could see inside just enough to see Walif's fallen crutch and not the sunken corpse she knew lay further in, and it was enough to break her heart all over again.

Things had changed so suddenly. A short while ago she had found hope again because the love those two had shown each other. And now…now they were gone, to Hera knew where.

"The bandaged men, took them, didn't they?"

Diana's eyes had been locked on that crutch since she had touched down. Only as that voice spoke did she realise the rest of what was going on around her. Only as she spun to look behind her did she realise that it was like the entire camp had come towards her, standing with her in solidarity. As she had walked through the camp earlier, she had sought to earn their trust. It appeared that what had just happened had done exactly that. And at the head of the group, a lone little girl had stepped forward towards her.

"They've come before," the little girl went on, an emotional weight to her far beyond her years evident. "The bandaged men and women. They normally come at night, but they always come. And everything they do, someone disappears. Just like me mummy and daddy. Just like the nice couple who lived here..."

Her mummy and daddy…? This girl was left here all alone, with nothing and no one…? If Diana's heart could break any more there would be none of it left.

"Have you told anyone?" she just about managed to say, her voice cracking slightly with every word. "Have you reported what is happening here to the authorities? To the people who can stop it? To the aid workers?"

"Those people see us as nothing more than more dirt in their ground." It was a new speaker this time, a man amongst the crowd, one who looked angry. He too now stepped forward, standing over the little girl as if he tragedy had forced him to become her protector, her guardian. "People disappear from the camp all the time, but whenever we beg for help and protection, nobody will listen to us. They will not listen. They will not hear."

"Well I've heard you now," Diana firmly responded, biting back the tears from her eyes. At first her voice was soft, but every word she spoke, it rose. It hardened. It became more and more determined, more resolute. "All of you, listen to me. I came to your camp today to understand your plight, your needs. To help you however I can. This is where I start. What has happened here today, it will _not _happen again. I will find out where Etefu and Dagmawi have been taken. If they are still there to be found, I will find the others, your parents, your friends, your husbands and wives, your brothers and sisters. Your children. I will find them and bring them back to you, or I shall not rest again. And then, when I have, I will do whatever I can to help you find the sanctuary you seek, the new home away from all this endless suffering that has pursued you to this land. I will come back for you. I will help you find hope again. I give you my word. I swear it to the gods. I will come back…"

And she meant it too. The last time she had walked away from the hovel it was with a sense of conviction, of how to help, of what Hera required of her. Now she knew it more than ever. Now she not only understood what motivated these people, but had also just seen the true levels of their hardships and despair, of the corruption that surrounded them. Of why they so desperately needed a new home and protection. She couldn't abandon them now. None of them. These people still in the camp, or those who had been taken.

She had asked Hera for guidance. Now she certainly had it.

She had to save them. One way or another, she had to save them all.


	3. 3: All that Glisters

**3: All That Glisters…**

If only Bruce had been there. With her insistence and the power behind her words, they had investigated that shipping container, looking for any clues, a particular fascination with the corpse. But where they had found zero leads over where the kidnappers might have gone, no doubt Batman would have gotten the answer. No doubt he would have found what no one else could.

But he wasn't there. He couldn't be. She couldn't even talk to him. Even as everything was happening, he was going under the knife to keep the use of his arm. Diana couldn't ask him to risk that. She would not.

Likewise, she couldn't go to the Justice League. There was still too much politics in the air. The League had to be seen as remaining impartial, non-interfering. They didn't want to risk destabilising the public trust they had worked so hard to re-earn after the incidents with Cadmus and the Binary Fusion Generator. And so she hadn't even called them either.

What she really needed was someone independent, yet someone she could completely trust. Someone with the skillset to be able to unearth truths deeply buried and unsighted. Someone with the compassion to drive them to help save her these people, just as she had promised them she would.

And luckily, Diana knew someone who perfectly fit that bill. And she was even already in the country.

Lois Lane sat in the wooden chair beside Diana's own. As soon as Diana had told her what had happened, what they had to do, Lois had started to pull the strings to get things moving. Thanks to her same contact, by the time Diana had finished with the police and events at the camp Lois had already established exactly where to start looking. And it was back in with those same aid workers.

Hudson Price was a volunteer just like all the other workers, but according to Lois' contact he was the one who had taken the lead in trying to protect the camp from the snatchers. Off duty at the time, Lois had still managed to arrange a meeting with him, just at the cheap and tacky hotel room in the nearby village where he stayed.

Which was why they were here now, both sat together on the old-fashioned furniture at the foot of the bed in the single room lodgings. A third chair set up in front of them, it was soon taken as Hudson sat there with them, handing out steaming cups of coffee as he did so. Lois took hers gratefully, immediately taking a sip, but Diana merely set hers down beside her chair.

"So, Hudson Price. That's not a very Italian name," Lois pointed out as she finished her sip. "And that accent sounds awful familiar."

Hudson let out a soft chuckle. He was very much a skinny man, mid-thirties. Pale skinned with straggly hair and beard, he was what some people might describe has a typical 'hipster' in appearance.

"You're right," Hudson replied, showing off that accent again. "I'm from Stateside. But when I started seeing the stories of what was going on out here, I decided to jack everything else in and come here to help. Sold my house, sold the car so that I could stay out here as long as I can. Didn't feel like I had a calling back home. Trying to look after these people felt like it wasn't a bad one to go for. But enough about me. A world renowned journalist and one of the greatest heroes of our age have shown up at my door. I must say, I wasn't expecting that."

Lois shrugged that statement off easily off. "We're both here because of what's happening at your camps, Mr Price. Wonder Woman to save them, me to tell their story. Since you must know we're aware of each other through Superman, we thought we'd spare you with one interview instead of two."

"And so we can do this quicker, too," Diana immediately tacked on to the end of Lois' words, not using the other woman's décor and subtleties but instead going in blunt. "Because people are disappearing from your camp. I was there today as two more were taken. I spoke to the migrants who live there. It sounds to me like there is an epidemic of corruption and opportunistic assault, with the kidnappings at the forefront. We need your help to stop it, and to find where those people have gone. Fast."

Lois glanced Diana's way in response, clearly thinking Diana's approach was _too_ blunt. Not her style, but Diana's through and through. Hudson too was put back by it, but not enough to stop him from answering.

"I agree wholeheartedly with your sentiment, Wonder Woman. And yes, I've heard the stories. I've seen faces I looked to every day suddenly not be there the next morning, families broken apart. But I've already been telling the police everything I know. The local mayor and the council too. I've written to the UN. I've shouted no end up to my fellow aid workers. And we've been doing what we could. More patrols, inside and out, even bringing in dogs. Strengthened the fencing, built up the walls. Got as much funding in as we can, as many security people. We had to sell it as keeping people in the camp rather than the bad people out, but we did what it took to get that funding. But none of it seems to have made a difference. We keep shouting for more help, _I _keep shouting for more help, but I'm just not sure how much appetite is there in all quarters to put the resources in. I wouldn't even be surprised if some of them didn't even _want _for more of the refugees to go missing…"

"That's a pretty bold statement, Mr. Price," Lois said, latching onto that last sentence. "Do you have any evidence to back it up? Any names…?"

"Oh no, no, no, no. No," Hudson quickly retracted. "I was only speaking hypothetically you understand. That bit wasn't for print as, you're right, I have proof of nothing. I don't want your papers getting me sued for libel! But all I meant was, _hypothetically speaking_, it would take away a huge problem for the politicians if those migrants simply went away…"

"Then allow me to ask you a similar question from a different perspective," Wonder Woman stepped in, biting back the frustration she was feeling so it didn't leach into her tone. Yes, she was impatient and blunt, but they did have to keep this man on side if they wanted him to keep talking. Maybe that was why Lois was the great journalist and she was the superhero. Lois was obviously better at this. "Have you ever seen any of the abductors? Have you ever had any contact with them? Do you know any of _their _names?"

That made him shift in his seat. At first he looked up at her, perturbed, as if she was accusing him of something. Hurriedly he fidgeted with his sleeves, almost as if a comforting action as he pulled them down further over his wrists, before finally managing to shake his head.

"Like I say, we've tried to protect these people. Me and the rest of the workers, we're no fighters but we have patrolled the camp too. We have kept an eye out even if… Even if none of us had a clue what we would due if we ran into one of the kidnappers. I like to think I could have stood tall against them, but… It could all have been different if I'm faced with the barrel of a gun. I'm not too macho to admit that. _But _I say it again, its never happened. They covered their tracks well, timed their access well. I've never seen them, never met them. As far as I know, they could be absolutely anybody. As unfortunate as that is."

"Unfortunate indeed, but understandable Mr Price," Lois quickly said, soothing as she did so, offering a nod that made Hudson smile, his uneasiness clearly put to rest. "Anyway, I think we've taken up too much of your time already. You can't have too much of it to yourself out here. I'm sure I speak for Wonder Woman when I say we don't want to dispose you of any more of it."

Now it was Diana caught off guard, flashing Lois a look. Hudson was doing the same, no doubt for the same reason. They had only just gotten there, Diana's untouched coffee barely even starting to get cold at her feet. They most certainly didn't have the answers Diana had come for either, yet Lois was bringing it to close.

"So soon?" Hudson voiced that surprise.

"I think we've got the message and, as Wonder Woman already pointed out, we are up against the clock on this one," Lois once again shrugged it off, though she did draw out a scrap of paper and scribbled something on it. "This is my contact number though. Give me a call if you think of anything else that might help."

"Of course," Hudson nodded, taking the scrap Lois was handing him. But Lois was already standing, leading Diana to follow suit. She was left on autopilot, still stunned and unsure what was happening. It meant she barely even registered as Lois lead their goodbyes to the aid worker, nor as they left his temporary home and wandered out into the early evening night of the town. They'd crossed down the road of Hudson's hotel to the car Lois had used to get there, seating themselves within by the time she finally managed to truly speak again.

"Well that told us nothing…"

"I wouldn't speak too soon, if I were you."

Diana had allowed a sense of disappointment to creep out as she sat in the passenger seat. Lois though, still had plenty of spirit about her. The look on her face was one of smug victory. That immediately got Diana's attention.

"What is it you know…?"

"It was a very expensive watch on his wrist, don't you think?" she answered. Diana could only shrug, no words. She hadn't even noticed he'd had a watch. For one she hadn't been looking, but he'd also worn his sleeves long. He even made sure they were pulled down low at one point too. Almost as if he was hiding something…Maybe Lois _was _onto something. "Gold plating, an Omega Seamaster 300 if I'm not mistaken. Very pricey. Not the kind of thing a man who cared for the migrants as much as Mr Price made out he did would normally own. Sold the car and the house, bought the watch…? I don't think so. Its selfish. It doesn't fit the profile he wants to give us. I don't buy it."

"It could be an heirloom," Diana mused, playing devil's advocate as much as anything else. "Something he didn't want to let go of…?"

Lois shook her head. She then reached down, drawing something from Hera knew where. Something Diana had no idea how Lois had gotten hold of, yet it was definitely there. Another scrap of paper. It took Diana a second to truly see it as Lois held it up.

A receipt. A watch receipt. And only a few days old…

"Its new," Lois put the issue to bed bluntly. "I spotted this in his trash can while he was making the coffee and swiped it. It looked suspiciously like he was trying to get rid of something, I thought it was worth digging into. "Thousands of Euros spent. And how did a man like him get the money?"

Hera. First of all Diana was dumbfounded how Lois even noticed that. Yes, now it seemed very naïve and panicked of Hudson, but Diana would never have seen through his subterfuge. But that wasn't all…

"Even in a place like this, the snatchers, the manipulators, the black-market runners, all of them, they're not getting in and out of that camp as completely unnoticed as he made out. Not without help from the inside. Its about the only thing I believed Hudson on. Someone must be corrupt. Well, probably more than one person, but still…"

"He was bribed…" Diana breathed, what Lois was telling her fully dawning on her. "Price has been taking money to let the abductors into the camps?!"

Lois was about to say it, to confirm it once and for all. But before she could speak, her phone started ringing. Immediately she was pulling it out, an instant during which Diana actually thought it could be Hudson following up on the number Lois had given him. As Lois answered, Diana was left hearing only one side of the conversation. At least it confirmed her initial suspicion was wrong, that this wasn't Hudson, but she still wasn't clued in on what was going on until Lois hung up and set the phone down in one of the cupholders.

"That was the coroner," Lois explained. "Another of my contacts got me in with their office. Thought it would be handy considering what you told me happened to that kidnapper with the profligacy for overly extreme dieting methods. I can't even pronounce what they've just confirmed he ingested, but there is one very interesting titbit they've given me. They can't ID the guy, but they've confirmed he's not Italian. He was from _Nairomi_."

"_He was one of the migrants?!"_

Diana had thought she had been stunned before. This was something else. Why would one of the migrants do that to his own kind…? _How_ could he…? And why would he kill himself as grotesquely as he had…? It didn't make sense…

"I think there might be more going on here than just smuggling and modern slavery…" Lois slowly muttered in response, saying exactly what Diana had been thinking.

"So what do we do now…?" It took Diana a while before she could speak again, all manner of thoughts tumbling through her head. All sorts of questions and still so little answers. The only way she could break from it all was to try and look ahead, to whatever they needed to do to start finding some. "If Hudson is betraying those people, do we need to go back in and make him talk?"

"Oh he'll talk, but we won't have to make him," Lois calmly countered. The phone she had just used was still down in the cupholder, yet Diana watched as Lois drew another. "Not that I plan on making a habit of it, but I may have just stolen a trick from Rupert Murdoch. Don't judge me, but with lives on the line and my suspicions of him high, I thought I'd make an exception and break the rules this time."

Diana could only stare, but she was clued up enough on current events of the last few years to understand what Lois was saying. Just as Lois had taken the watch receipt without anyone noticing, she had also somehow managed to hack Hudson's phone as he'd been busy making the coffee. Linked, maybe even completely mirrored to Lois' second device, they had access to Hudson's device.

And, having just been confronted by a superhero and a great journalist, if he was guilty then Hudson could easily be spooked. And if he was afraid, he'd no doubt turn to the people he was working with to figure out how to cover his tracks and protect himself as he had failed to protect others. Hudson Price was no criminal mastermind, Diana was at least sure of that, which meant he would need their help. He would need to meet them, no doubt, which first meant he would need to make contact.

Which in turn meant that any second…

Sure enough, Lois' second phone soon started to ring. Quickly, Lois picked it up, showing Diana the display, the registering of the outgoing call ready for them to listen in.

"Showtime," Lois grinned.

* * *

Mišel Breèko. That was the name they'd heard. The man who at the very least was Hudson's handler, if not the villain of the piece. She hoped for the latter. At least then this might be over quicker.

By then night had fallen fully. That had been Hudson's instructions, to wait til it was dark, to make sure the coast was clear and to use the night help make sure he wasn't followed. But while those were cautious instructions, hearing him on the phone had made clear that this Breèko was a very egotistical and cocksure man, even if he did vent frustration at Hudson for using his real name on the line. He immediately seemed the kind of person who felt he was untouchable. The kind of person who, even after hearing that Wonder Woman and Lois Lane were on that trail of one of his key assets, would still be presumptuous enough to assume that they wouldn't still be watching.

But while Breèko was blasé, Hudson was very much the weedy man he had appeared. He had followed the instructions in waiting, but in terms of making sure he wasn't followed, he lacked the skills to make it happen. Especially with Lois' skills in ensuring they weren't seen. A key trait of investigative journalism, being able to follow a lead under the radar until you were ready to play your hand. Which meant there was nothing stopping them following Hudson's car right to those who had corrupted him.

The docks. They didn't need the signage to make that clear to them as they pulled up slightly further down the road from where Hudson stopped. The sounds of the sea, the smell of the fish, it had all gotten stronger here. Breèko had merely told Hudson to meet him at 'the usual place' on the call, preventing Diana from charging straight in after him, weapons drawn. But now there was no doubt. This was that place. This was where Breèko and Hudson were meeting. At the place where a lot of those migrants from the Cuore dei Beati Antenati camp likely came to shore.

A place that would be a ripe location for manipulative, opportunistic criminals like this Breèko to operate from.

As soon as she saw Hudson pulling up out front, Diana had those pieces put together. And she knew just as fast. Now was indeed the time to draw those weapons.

"I assume this is the part where you go telling me to wait here?" Lois muttered to her from the driving seat. There was an edge to her words, almost as if daring Diana to do it. But Diana did dare. She wasn't about to go risking Lois' life for nothing, no matter how brave Lois was. After all, she did have a knack for getting into trouble. But Diana wasn't exactly sending her home either.

"Until I've knocked the fight out of them," Wonder Woman simply answered with a wry smile. "Until its time to ask them the questions again. Then by all means, join me in there. I'll give you a signal when its time. I'm sure you'll recognise it."

Lois could only smirk back at her. "Then it sounds like I can't wait to see this!"

* * *

The chill of the evening breeze was cool against his skin, the smoke blown from his mouth making his breath conversely warm. But soon he was raising the cigarette back up to his lips, taking minimal time between the drags. Tonight was one of those nights. The sea was still, the air even stiller, yet something hung in it. A sensation, a feeling. The sense that it was time to turn the page, to write the next chapter. The time to tie up some loose ends.

And to take a moment of calm relief before packing up and tearing down.

"Mišel. He's here."

Anže Èrešnar had walked up behind him to make the announcement. His old friend from old days, from back in the village when life was quiet and tame. And poor. When the calm was dull instead of…relaxing. But he didn't turn back to look, not at first. Instead he took another long, drawn out moment to gaze across the dark sea before him. The flowing, rolling halls of the coastline in and around the docks. It hadn't been a bad place to live and work, this. It had been a good venture. While it lasted.

But everything ends someday.

It was only as the faint sounds of footsteps reached him over the soft patter of waves against the hull did he slowly spin round. Even as he did, he took yet another drag on the almost burnt out cigarette as part of the motion. He barely even saw the other men's faces before he was blowing out the full breath of smoke into them. It had barely begun to clear either before he was dropping the stub of embers to the deck beneath his feet, symbolically stamping it out with his foot.

Anything to make it clear who was in charge. And what that meant that he could do.

And as if symbolic of how weak he was in comparison, Hudson Price coughed and spluttered at the smoke in his face, beaten even by something as simple as that. Mišel Breèko knew he was no good man, but this Hudson… Even Breèko felt he was scum.

"I didn't tell them anything Mišel, I swear…" Price was immediately stammering. But Breèko didn't want to hear it. He hadn't instructed Hudson to come to the boat for excuses and denials. Instead, he was instantly shushing, holding a rough-skinned finger up towards the skinny, scruffy man's lips as he shook his head. He still didn't speak though, instead looking back over to Èrešnar, and the two other men who had also walked up with Price. The men entrusted to bring Price to him. To again show his power.

"No sign of any tail, boss," one of the men answered. "No overly brave cops around the dockyard. He's clean."

Of course he was. Mišel Breèko owned these dockyards. He owned this town. He owned every out of towner he needed to to avoid questions being asked. And he owned all the muscle he needed to keep his investments safe. Even as they spoke, he had two dozen men patrolling the warehouses, stores and offices of the dockyards. Each of them armed to the teeth. If any policeman was fool enough to try and take him on, to follow Hudson to him, the sounds of gunfire would have already filled the air.

But no amount of muscle would help if the mob turned on him. If his operation drew enough attention that the politicians and the police commissioners and the lawmakers had no choice but to ignore his money and follow their howls of anger. And if Wonder Woman and Lane were sniffing around…

Everything ends. Even all good things. And especially the bad ones.

"Then you can put that away, my friend," Breèko said, gesturing to the pistol worn at Èrešnar's hip. It was an unnecessary gesture in terms of action, Èrešnar simply pulling his jacket in tighter to conceal the weapon. But again it made Price look at the instrument that could so easily destroy him. Again it made Price afraid of them.

"Mišel, I… I thought you were going to help… What is this…?" Price stammered. Breèko didn't stop him this time. Instead, for a brief moment, he simply turned, taking the step back to the railing, allowing himself a warm smile.

"I always liked boats," he said when he finally spoke again, looking back at Price and seeing his startled look at the seemingly random comment. As he said it, his arms gestured to the vehicle on which they stood. Currently moored at the dockyards, the seagoing vessel was Breèko's pride and joy. Not quite a pleasure yacht but far from a tanker or a tug. His faithful voyager. "Ever since my youth. There's something about them, about the sea. About the calm, the nature. The _escape_. They've always been symbolic to me. A symbol of richness, of power. And of being free. Being able to simply cut a rope and drift away from all of life's problems. Just a simple…_cut_. Don't you agree, Hudson?"

As he said it, Breèko made a cutting gesture with his hand. Not quite across the throat, but close enough to keep Price on edge. He enjoyed toying with the scum.

"Actually, I was always more of a country boy…" Price just about stammered when he could finally break away from looking at that hand. "Odd as it may sound, I've always found myself most comfortable around natural land, even the dirt and the dust."

"I don't doubt that," Breèko quickly interjected. The Lord knew, Price was comfortable in the dirt. His hands were covered in it. "From your youth?"

Price was soon giving a nervous nod. "Out in the prairies of Minnesota. The old man was a farmer."

"Oh, really?" Breèko responded, feigning an interest. "So was mine. Yes, out in the Gjakova district, in a small rural community. Have you heard of it?"

This time Hudson was shaking his head. "To be honest, geography was never my best subject…"

"How about history?" Breèko suggested instead. "I'm sure even in the prairies of Minnesota people watch the news? But then, I suppose not all stories are told the same, are they? There was a fascinating story from my village, you see. Over twenty years ago now. Maybe even twenty-five. I try not to count. Ringing any bells?"

Again, Hudson was only shaking his head, knobbly knees almost audibly quivering.

"Well the bells in the village were ringing, I can tell you that," Breèko pressed on. "But only slowly mind you. Because you see, my brothers, my sisters, my neighbours and friends. My people. What happened that day has meant they are _all_ now very familiar with the dirt."

Breèko paused again, allowing himself the time to read Hudson's reaction. It was fair to say that Price at least wasn't slow to cotton on. The blood could visibly be seen draining from his face to his toes. Now Price clearly finally recalled his history.

"Kosovo…" His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, Kosovo," Breèko confirmed for him. "But not every slaughter was conscious. Not every mass grave was found. I saw things out there, Hudson. I _learned _things. I learned how the world works. I learned to understand business. And I learned to understand this."

"What… What is it?" Hudson stammered out the question. By now he looked more than ready to back away, almost run. If only his legs could move instead of simply shake. If only he wasn't so afraid of the still watchful Èrešnar and his cohorts. Because in Breèko's fingers he now clutched a small orb, a spherical glass vial, held up to the moonlight for Hudson to see. Faintly green in colour, its gaseous contents could be seen floating inside.

"A complex blend of chemicals, primarily made up of carbon and triple bonded nitrogen. Or were your chemistry classes no better than your geography ones, Hudson?"

This time, Hudson clearly didn't understand. But it didn't mean he wasn't still scared.

"Oh, I'm sure you've heard of a sister chemical," Breèko continued to push. "Cyanide. A very similar blend to this, is cyanide. Only this in my hand is more enriched, more concentrated. More _deadly_. Exposure to this gas is definitely not recommended. A single wisp of it hits your lungs and you aren't just dead. Your nervous system fails. Your breathing fails. Fluid fills your oesophagus as you choke on your own bile. And then, its like your organs combust from the inside, flesh and tissue eaten away before your very eyes. The whole process only takes moments, but the best experts think it must feel like hours. Days. It's a horrible way to go. But I saw it in the fields of Gjakova, Hudson. I saw it in the dirt. I saw as they used the cover of the conflict, the cover of the massacres and graves already being dug all around us, to test they're new poison. I saw as the outsiders eradicated my village and my family, all to see if their new creation was good for business. I saw as they succeeded in their secrecy, and as no-one in the world blinked an eye that another eight hundred lives had been snuffed out with just a simple whiff of gas. And then I saw as they took their gas to market. A market the world still hasn't heard of. A market I made sure to be a part of.

"I told you I learnt from the dirt of my home, Hudson. I learnt that for good business, nothing can be allowed to stand in your way. That there is no price too steep, no step too far if it means achieving your goals. That people, all people, are only collateral on the path of ambition and conquest. I learnt that lesson well. And from that day on, I built my own empire. Standing on the shoulders of history.

"Hence this venture along the Mediterranean. The migrants, the refugees. The business opportunity they represent. The _collateral_.

"But it takes a special business idea for it to last. And I fear this one has already shown to be fleeting. Not worth the continued investment. Which means its time to close the books here and return to the East. There's still plenty of opportunity in gunrunning around the Crimean Peninsula. Here…

"There are only loose ends. And collateral that needs to be forfeited. Do you understand what I mean Hudson?"

He most certainly did. He obviously had almost from the moment that he'd set foot onto Breèko's boat. For a long time, he had simply foolishly chosen not to admit it to himself. Now the panic was setting in, gaze jumping around between that vial in Breèko's hand and the cold look in his eyes. Weak, now he did finally try to back away, but it was futile. Breèko's two men around him were quick the grab him by both arms and to not let go. Leaving Hudson only one choice. To beg.

"Breèko, I can get you more… More of migrants! The camp is still vulnerable, this doesn't have to be over…! You don't have to do this!"

"Oh, I'm afraid I do," Breèko could only shake his head. "Even before recent escalations. The employer who gave us our biggest opportunity, who has personally bought much of my supply of the carbon nitrates… That _madman _is taking over this racket. It may still be profitable, but there are some industries even I want no part of. And I both want no part of what he's doing, nor the complications of competing for the same Nairomian…_resource_. No, this is as good an excuse as any to get out. To clean house. Especially with Wonder Woman and Lane starting to sniff around."

"I told them nothing, Mišel. _Nothing! _I swear! I…I could come with you! I could disappear! I could go back to Minnesota and never speak to anyone again! But you don't have to do this!"

"Maybe not," Breèko admitted with a shrug. "But sometimes what you want to do and what you need to aren't aligned. I have no morals Price, so I have none to betray. But you… You deserve to be in the dirt."

By then Price was screaming, struggling in vain to get away, what was coming left in no doubt. But he was silenced as one of Breèko's men grabbed at his jaw, forcibly holding it and his mouth open. Ready for Breèko to ram the vial of poison straight down his throat and watch the man burn.

But ready was as far as they got. Because it was then that the commotion began.

It was then that they first heard the gunfire.

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**If that seemed like a sudden cut off, its because it was. The chapter wound up getting towards being twice as long as it was first planned to be, so I've split it down the middle. But don't worry, the rest will follow soon!**_

_**In the meantime, review away my friends! (Please...)**_


	4. 4: Made Weak by Time and Fate

**4: Made Weak By Time and Fate**

All eyes immediately rose, turning towards the dockyards and the direction of the automatic rifles sounding off. It was enough to make Breèko immediately stop. A whole new frustration was suddenly filling him.

"I thought you said there was no police!"

"There weren't…" one of the armed men quickly whimpered, but there was no arguing with the sounds. Looking back at the docks, he could see very little. That had been the whole point of this mooring. Snuggled into the quayside around the concrete and the warehouses, out of view of the workers and the townsfolk, but with a clear and clean run out to sea. Normally, it gave Breèko exactly what he wanted. In that moment, it was anything but. In that moment, he could hear the yells, the gunfire, the ricochets, the smashes, the screams. But he could see nothing.

Until he could suddenly see something. Until from nowhere he saw first the rifle flying out into the sea, quickly followed by its former wielder. Flung with an apparent inhuman force…

What was happening…?

"You two!" Breèko quickly gestured to the two goons who had brought Hudson there. "Get out there! Clean this up, now!"

Both men hesitated, looking to each other. But as Breèko yelled that last word again even louder, they remembered they were more afraid of him than the unknown. Drawing their weapons, soon they were both disembarking the boat, racing out into the dockyards and out of sight, ready to try and put down the attackers, the cause of the ongoing chaos out there.

But Breèko himself, he could only stand there, looking out to the nothingness. Looking out to his man now in the sea. The man seemingly swimming _away _from the shore, as if he'd rather swim the entire Mediterranean than face what was out there again.

"This isn't the police…" In all the commotion, Breèko had almost forgotten that Hudson was still stood there with them. When the American voiced what was increasingly dawning on Breèko's mind, he couldn't help but glance at him again. Fear still lined every one of Hudson's features, but it was a new kind of fear. It wasn't fear in Breèko anymore, wasn't fear of the vial of death. "It's _her_."

His timing was perfect. Even as he said it, they all finally saw. Still some distance away, they saw _above_ the dockyards. One of his men was grasped in her clutches. One of his better, most reliable men. A man who had seemingly been ripped out from one of the warehouses, and who now was having his rifle literally torn to pieces in his hand. The next second, he too was being tossed aside into the sea. A great fighter, brought down to nothing against her. Her armour shining bright, her aura fierce.

Wonder Woman. It was bloody Wonder Woman.

"Cast off," Breèko ordered. He had no idea how he said it, if he barked it or if it was nothing but a mutter. All he knew was he had to say it, eyes affixed to the sky for a long time. Wonder Woman had descended again, clearly still engaged in the fight with his men, but Breèko knew that wouldn't last long. All things ended. Beside him, Èrešnar too was still locked on the skies, not hearing any of the order until Breèko hollered it again. "Anže, cast us off, _now!"_

Èrešnar finally caught on. There was no waiting for the others. No going back for the men he'd sent in. He'd meant it when he'd said he'd learned that people were nothing more than commodities and collateral. Everything in Mišel Breèko's life resolved around his business, on staying on top. That left only one option now; escape. Sacrificing his goons could buy him the time to do that. But they had to move.

Èrešnar reached the bow line tying them to the pier, but Breèko didn't stand around watching as he got about casting it free. He was already leaping up the steps at the back of the boat to the top deck, to the controls. And as soon as he was there, he was firing up the engines, pushing the accelerator forwards as fast as he could without stalling the thing. At first, there was a resistance, the line clearly snagging. The next second, Èrešnar finally pulled through. With a roar of firing cylinders and the churn of turning propellers, the boat began to charge out of the quayside of the dockyards. Out towards open sea. The escapism of the waters.

The escapist notion that hadn't only been his own.

As soon as he'd received the panicked phone call, he knew he needed Hudson Price dead, just as he'd known the trafficking operation of the Nairomians was done. He'd just thought he would have more time to see it through, reckoning without a damn Amazon. Now, what he needed more than anything was Hudson's silence. With Wonder Woman's charge, he hadn't even the chance to stop and put a bullet in Price's skull. Now he was wishing he had. For knowing only death awaited him on this boat, Hudson Price was the one man aboard who'd rather face the Amazon than flee to sea.

It was the splash that was the signal. Even over the sound of the engine, the wake on the waters and the chaos at shore, Breèko heard the splash. Instantly his head snapped back to see the source. Almost as instantly, he could see Hudson in the waters. With Breèko and Èrešnar both distracted, he'd made a break for it. He'd jumped into the waters of the quay, already starting to swim for sure.

Breèko knew he had to get out of there. But if his business were to survive, he also knew he had to have Hudson's silence, that the truth of their operation here could not be revealed. People would not do business with a tainted dealer. Glancing ahead long enough to make sure they weren't about to smash headfirst into the quay walls before they were clear of the port, Breèko then dared take his hands off the wheel, to let the boat surge itself onwards. He dared turn away, and to draw his own pistol from its hidden holster.

Experts teach to only squeeze the trigger, but Breèko was lost to the moment. His finger was fierce as he unleashed round after round towards Price's desperately swimming form, getting ever further away. Perhaps that was why his usually trusted aim was so off. Enhanced by the rise and fall of the waves, his hand was too unsteady. He had to stop, to take a deep breath. To line Price up right in his sights.

The killshot. With calm, he had it. And with calm, he finally squeezed…

Only even the perfect aim did not kill Hudson Price. Because it seemed the scum's downfall was also his salvation. For just before the bullet could reach him, she had flown in from nowhere. He had heard stories of her bracelets deflecting gunfire. Now he had seen it for himself. Now he had seen Wonder Woman swoop down from the docks, putting herself right in the path of his fire. And he had seen her easily swat the bullet aside.

Now Breèko desperately turned back to the wheel, as if holding the steering mechanism could somehow affect the speed of the already maxed out boat. He saw just enough out of his eye corners to know that Wonder Woman had plunged her hand into the sea, grabbed Price by the scruff of his deck and unceremoniously tossed him the remaining metres to get him back to the docks. It was a throw that would undoubtedly hurt him, but Wonder Woman didn't seem to care. But she most certainly seemed pissed off.

An anger that was now all directed towards Breèko.

As the boat finally passed through the quay walls and out into fully open waters, something made Breèko glance back again. It was just in time to see Wonder Woman swooping in. Still flying through the air, it was like watching a hawk swooping down on its prey. So much so Breèko was already flinching as he saw her lining up her fists, seemingly ready to ram the boat asunder.

But he'd reckoned without Èrešnar. Once again, he'd forgotten he wasn't alone on the boat, but this time it was a good job he wasn't. Down on the lower aft deck, Èrešnar had charged forwards at Wonder Woman. He'd managed to get his hands on an automatic rifle, and seeing her coming in had been his signal to open fire. A stream of deadly bullets were sent flying her way, Èrešnar howling the air from his lungs with every shot.

Once again, Breèko got to see those bracelets in action as he kept having to glance at the action. Hands a blur, Wonder Woman's initial reaction had been one of defence, of deflection, of somehow managing to drive all those masses of bullets away from her body. But the stream was nearly constant. And one would be all it would take. One to get through her defences. One to make her fall. One to at least give them the chance to get away. And perhaps, one to take her down…

For a brief, impossible moment, Breèko dared to dream that that one had made it through. Where Darkseid, the Imperium, the Thanagarians and Luthor had all failed, Breèko dared to dream that Anže Èrešnar had been the man to kill Wonder Woman. As he watched her spiral down and splash deep below the waters, he couldn't help his hopeful reaction. As she didn't reappear several moments later, as the boat continued to chug unhindered further into the sea, Breèko couldn't help but cheer in the belief that they had somehow gotten away.

He couldn't help but think he had his escape.

Until everything was taken away from under him. Literally.

At first he felt the surge. Grabbing at the wheel to stabilise himself as much as anything, his first thought was that it was a nasty wave. Perhaps even that they'd hit a rock. But then, he noticed that in doing so he'd turned the wheel, yet the boat had made no change in direction. He noticed the sound, the engine still working but no churn of water resounding behind it, as if the propellers were now turning only air. And then his panicked mind finally allowed him to feel it, to realise it. To feel the whole boat rising. To feel as everything took to the air.

It was impossible. The whole boat must have weighed two thousand tonnes, but there was no denying it. Desperately, he grabbed for any hold he could take as they rose higher and higher. Down below, he could see Èrešnar clutching on for dear life at the railings at the side of the boat. The rifle was still in his hand, but now it was absolutely useless. He couldn't see her to fire, even if one of those bullets ever _could_ get through. There was no line of sight.

Not when Wonder Woman was directly under the boat.

Not when she was lifting the whole thing up high into the sky.

Panic took Breèko's mind as he continued to push the accelerator forward as if it would make any difference anymore, but by then they must have been at least twenty metres in the air. Thirty. And then, eyes widening in horror with every inch crossed, he saw it. He saw as Wonder Woman, the flying Amazon with the strength of a thousand men, effortlessly carried the boat back towards the shoreline. In mere moments, they were hovering almost exactly over one of the dock's warehouses, one Breèko knew would be deserted but also one he knew well, a regular part in his Nairomian operation.

And by then, there was nothing for Breèko to do but to sink to his knees. The escape was over. His business was dead. The whole purpose of his life, the one thing he had learned meaning in. It was over. Taken in the blink of an eye. He could already feel it. He was broken. He had failed.

But he also new he had to brace. Because he could also tell what was happening next. He had seen it in her eyes as she had flown before going beneath the waves. The rage. The need to revenge.

For a long moment, the boat just hung there in the air, the anticipation almost killing him. Down below, Èrešnar dared peer over the side, as if to see what was going on, but Breèko just held on tight. He knew this wouldn't kill, that she would ensure that. But it was going to bloody hurt.

Because the next second, Wonder Woman let go.

The next second, the entire boat began to fall.

To plummet to Earth, to the solidity of the warehouse, its innards and the ground further below.

Boats had always been the symbol of escape to Mišel Breèko. There would be no escaping anymore.

There was only the rush of the wind. And the ground closing in, fast…

* * *

She had been right. Seeing Wonder Woman's signal had definitely been worth it. Of course, she was used to it from all the fantastical things she'd seen Superman do over the years, but it never got old watching a person flying while carrying an entire boat above their head. And seeing Wonder Woman kick the arses of all the thugs at the dockyards hadn't been half bad either.

As she'd finally left the car and walked through the docks towards where that boat had fallen, Lois had surveyed the full damage. Strewn bullet cases were everywhere, but there was very little signs of blood or damage. What there was was a score of defeated villains, all looked battered and beaten, all lulled and barely even awake. All bound and manacled by freshly created chains, torn metal wrapped around them tightly as only someone with super-strength could achieve. Even the second man who had been on the boat at the end was like that, unceremoniously dumped outside the entrance to the end warehouse. After being on that boat when it fell, he looked even more defeated than the rest.

Yet despite seeing all that, Lois still had to stop and let out a whistle when she finally made it inside that building. It was impossible not to. The whole in the rafters, the fallen ceiling struts sprayed everywhere. The smashed, flattened and broken machinery that had been in the centre of the room until the crushing weight had fallen. Chunks of the now holed hull that had been thrown out on impact.

And of course, the boat itself, the cause of all this damage. Its hull cracked and split right down the middle, its keel buckled and collapsed underneath. The whole thing lay on its side, bits of the warehouse roof puncturing it as it was left perched and broken by the crates and machinery and forklift that had been below where it fell. It was a ridiculous sight that no one should ever normally see.

But with people like Wonder Woman around, they were seen more and more often these days.

"Nice work…" Lois couldn't help but voice her approval to the room. "I like what you've done with the place."

"I think I broke their little ships."

Wonder Woman stepped around the foot of that boat, walking towards a crate between it and where Lois now stood. Calm was clearly hers again, the excitement of the action done. But what Lois really noticed was the golden rope wrapped around Wonder Woman's hand. More accurately, the full length of the rope, and the two men bound in it that Wonder Woman dragged along behind her. As she finally reached the crate, Wonder Woman gave that rope one final tug. The two men, as defeated as all those outside, had no resistance against her strength, both pulled forcefully across the final metres. Both crashing against the wood, and then both collapsing to the floor, back to back. Stepping forward herself, Lois immediately recognised Hudson Price as one of them. The other, the one Wonder Woman seemed really interested in, she could guess. He was the other man on the boat, the man in charge of all this. Breèko.

"I'm sure half the town saw or heard your little show out there," Lois stoically told Diana as she stepped up to her side. "By which I mean, you might want to make this fast. Considering half of them might have been on this guy's payroll for a while, I doubt the cops will want you talking to him too much before they can take him away."

"I won't need long," Wonder Woman firmly responded, gripping the end of the lasso tighter wrapped around her fist. As she did so, Lois saw it glow all the more. At the same time, both Breèko and Hudson winced as if feeling its force already hitting. Lois had heard of this, but it was the first time she'd ever got to see it. The lasso of truth in action. Addressing Breèko, Diana was quickly asking her first question. "You will tell me what happened to the people of the Cuore dei Beati Antenati camp. Of Amara Tesheme Etefu and Walif Melaku Dagmawi, and all those who disappeared before them. Of the bandaged man who took them. And you will tell me now."

At first, Breèko only winced, then he growled, teeth bared. And then, he could resist no more, the words tumbling out from his preceding scream of defeat. "The _doll_ was nothing to do with me. With _us_. I gave him samples of the substance he puts in their teeth to destroy them, but that's it. I wanted nothing to do with those freaks. That's the main reason I wanted out."

"Then who, Breèko?" Wonder Woman pressed. "If not you, then who is behind this? We know the man in the bandages was a Nairomian. We know something was done to him before I saw him at that camp. Who is behind this? Where are they taking those refugees? It what do they want?"

"I…I don't know his name," Breèko was against forced to speak against his will. "Part of our deal, I didn't want to know. Security, protection…_good for business_. But they paid me, paid us, to help them…access the migrants. We already had an in, we were running a smuggling racket as it was. I already had the right people on my payroll, including Hudson Price. It was an extra revenue stream I couldn't refuse. But I can tell you where he got us to take the refugees we took from the camp."

"You don't know his name?" Lois voiced her incredulity, unable to help it. It was Wonder Woman's interrogation, but she wasn't one for holding her tongue, especially when there was something to get to the bottom off. Wonder Woman didn't seem to mind, especially with Lois holding off just long enough to allow Breèko to rattle off an address she recognised as being just a few miles up the coast. "I find it hard to believe that a man like you wouldn't make sure he had some sort of leverage over his business partners."

From the look on his face, it was clear that Breèko had been hoping they wouldn't pick up on that. He had tried to get beyond the lasso by answering only the questions as asked, by an excessively literal approach. He had failed.

"We only know him as 'the Professor'. He's messed up, a psychopath, probably schizophrenic, but he's smart. What happened to the man in the bandages, that was him. His…_surgery_. He said he needed the migrants for his experiments, to do to them whatever turned that man into the doll. And he put the carbon nitrates in their teeth as a means of making sure their secrets couldn't be found out until he was ready. He said he needed people who were disposable, who wouldn't be missed. I didn't know the full extent of what he was doing at first, but when I saw his first…_doll_, that's when I called off our deal. When he started sending his dolls straight into the camp direct, trying to collect more test subjects. He makes me look a model citizen. He's…insane. Insane to the point where even _I_ was afraid of him."

As Breèko has been speaking, Lois found herself instinctively looking up to Wonder Woman. Likewise, Wonder Woman looked up to Lois. Both of them clearly had the same reaction. With Breèko, the situation would have been dark, horrific, inhumane. But it would have been the work of man. Man at his worst, but man. Gangs, criminals, but just an ordinary man. But this. This…_Professor_. Even if he was a man, he didn't sound ordinary.

He sounded like a monster.

A monster that they had to stop.

But Breèko wasn't finished talking yet either.

"And that mask. That weird mask he always wore. I never saw his face, only the mask.

"The mask of a _pig_…"

* * *

**_Several Hours Ago…_**

At long last, the bag was ripped from her head, the gag torn from her mouth. It felt like it had been on for days, like trapping darkness was all she had ever known. Now, suddenly, she was in the intense spotlight, and she was left still unable to see.

Amara's breathing remained ragged too. The panic she felt was intense. At first she had thought it had been the gag leaving her struggling for breath. Now she knew it was instead the crippling fear. Back home, in Nairomi, amongst the soldiers and the fighting, such an abduction only ever ended one way.

But this wasn't back home. She had to tell herself that. She wasn't dead, not yet. They had come here in search of hope. They had come here to make a new life, she and Walif… Walif…

"_Walif?!_" she screamed his name. She had to scream his name. The moment they had both been grabbed from their hovel in the camp, they had both been shoved in the back of the van. But the armed gunmen in there had made it clear for her not to move, shoving the rough cloth gag into her mouth to silence her. The bag on her head had also meant she couldn't see. And since she was struck across the head more than once by the barrel of a gun for daring to resist, she was afraid. Because she had at least heard him struggling too, the disabled, pained man without his crutches. What if they'd done something to him…

Even worse, as soon that van had stopped, she had been forcibly dragged out of there. Brought what felt like miles with her feet scraping along the ground, every effort she made to shove the firm hands dragging her away failing. Then she had left, thrown in some kind of chair, hands and feet bound to the floor by some sort of chains, and otherwise abandoned. Senses disoriented, time had slowed to a standstill. A feeling made even worse by the unknown, the expanding fear. And the lack of hearing any other rattling chains.

What if they'd _killed_ him…?

"WALIF?!"

"I'm here! Amara, I'm here, I'm right here with you! Look! Look at me! I'm not leaving you. I'm here!"

Amara had already been blinking rapidly trying to get her vision back. Now she was doing it faster than ever. Her head felt like it was lolling around all over the place as she tried to get back her bearings, the blurring slowly starting to fade. But it turned out that not many directions could she see.

Slowly she began to be able to distinguish the light from the dark again, making that the room she was now in, wherever that was, had carefully controlled its illumination. The circular spotlight made sure only a particular circumference was lit, the same circumference in which she was still chained.

Then she saw the blur. Opposite her, the outline the shape. Opening her eyes wide, she tried to force them to focus, to make sense of it. Another big blink and she finally made out more of the detail. It looked a human shape, equally seated. Chained… But something wasn't right. The legs.

There was only one leg.

"Walif!" This time Amara's yell was one of relief as finally she made him out. Her vision came back just in time to see his smile at her recognition. Despite everything, despite how bad this was, how scared he too would be, he would always smile for her. But by then, she could make out more of his chains. More of the bruising around his eye, the cuts, the beatings he was displaying. And she could see that he indeed was as manacled as she was. They were together, but that just meant that they both remained in incredible danger.

A fact emphasised a moment later as they first heard the sound of clapping. Sinister clapping. Slow, and growing louder. Followed by the sounds of encroaching footsteps. And then…

A snort? A…_pig's squeal?_

"Yes! Oh, yes!" the voice sounded out too. It sounded naturally deep, yet unnaturally high. It sounded broken. It sounded…_wrong_. "These two will do. They will do indeed!"

It had taken a while, but by then Amara had managed to get a handle on where the sound was coming from, which direction. Only that, only the intense oddity of the voice, the intense fear it brought in her, made her turn away from Walif. Across, it seemed he could say the same thing. For they both stared as, slowly, the figure stepped into the light.

But the figure paused, hesitating before passing all the way over the threshold. Amara could see his torso, but she couldn't make out his face. That was bad enough though. Podgy and round in built, he looked like some kind of butcher, his clear plastic apron shimmering at the spotlight's edge over dark trousers and plain white shirt. Or at least, it had been plain white, for the apron hadn't been enough to stop all of the blood spatters. His legs looked like he was wearing a fisherman's waders, while his hands… Rubber gloves, bright yellow, but again plastered in red. And within his grasp, they could see why.

The meat cleaver clutched tightly in one. The filing knife in the other. And each one was dripping with blood, even as he stood there.

If Amara could recoil against the chains she would. As it was, all she could do was wretch, almost sick at the sight alone.

Another snort suddenly erupted from the man at the edge of the light as a result, his gut trembling as it turned into a squealing chuckle. He was clearly amused by her fear, her disgust.

And then, the man finally stepped fully into the light, leaning in close towards her. Again she tried to back away as the blade of the cleaver moved menacingly close to her face, but truthfully it wasn't the metal that she most wanted to get away from. It was the face of the man wearing it.

Or more accurately, the mask. The mask that looked almost like it had been freshly severed from the head of a pig.

"Oh, yes. I can help you. And you can help me. Yes indeed. A cut, a _slice_… A change. Your body is mine now. Your mind is mine now. Mine to amend. My blades, they shall fix you, my dear. I shall take away your imperfections. All your imperfections!"

The man thrust back his arm as he said that, thrust back his cleaver. Directing it at Walif. A message that was clear. He was saying Walif was such an imperfection. Not only was he threatening to cut her, he was threatening to kill Walif…

This man was insane!

Amara's eyes darted across at him, and he too suddenly looked petrified, but the mask, looming over her face, suddenly drew even closer, giving her no chance to look at Walif anymore. And in the process, leaving her even more afraid of what this man was about to do.

As if to make matters worse, just at that moment the scores of other shadows began stepping towards the light, forming the circle around its edge. The figures clearly subservient to this pig. All wearing the bandages for the mask, just as those who had snatched her and Walif from the camp.

And then Amara realised why they wore those bandages. They had all already been victims of the pig…

Jaw trembling, Amara then finally forced herself to look back into that mask, now only centimetres from her own face. Into the eyes, the hollow eyes, lit by a light only of insanity. At the meat clever and the knife, still ready to be brandished.

And at the smile creating out where the mask ended beneath his nose…his _snout_. The vicious, impending smile.

"Perfection. Loveless perfection. I, _Professor __Pyg,_ shall help you achieve _perfection_!"

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**Go on then...Did anyone see that coming? Tell me in the reviews!**_

_**And yes, there is a reason why I made a last minute change to tone down and somewhat normalise how he talks. For now...**_


	5. 5: Yet Nothing Can To Nothing Fall

**5: Yet Nothing Can To Nothing Fall…**

The sky above the ducks were now full with the flash blue lights of police cars. The authorities had arrived, lead there by the intensity of the commotion. There to discover the beaten and bound gang of criminals, tied up ready and waiting for them. With enough evidence all around those docks to ensure even the likes of Mišel Breèko couldn't corrupt the officials to his whim.

From down the round, Lois watched on as if an innocent bystander, stood by her car as if there by pure coincidence. She and Wonder Woman had gotten out before the police even know they'd been there. Not that they had anything to hide, but there was still a matter of urgency. Being bound up in the red tape would slow them down too much. They may have taken another step closer, but the Nairomians taken by Breèko and this Professor were still out there. Now it was time to go get them.

Or it would be, if at that moment Lois' phone hadn't started to ring again, just as Wonder Woman was about to take flight beside her. Quickly pulling out the device, Lois saw the name of the caller as Wonder Woman looked across concerned. Her contact through the coroner's office. This could be interesting…

Lois quickly looked up at Diana. She could tell that she was itching to go, to get to where Breèko had said he'd used to take the kidnapped migrants for the Professor. Lois wasn't about to stop her.

"Go," she simply and hurriedly said. "Go get them. I'll catch up. Just take this so I can get back in touch. Your superhero lines aren't exactly on the 4G network!"

Lois had taken out her second phone as she'd said that, tossing it to Wonder Woman before she knew what was happening. Luckily her reflexes meant that she caught it anyway, the confused look taking only a moment before fading.

But otherwise, Wonder Woman didn't need telling twice. With nothing more than a nod and phone still clutched in hand, Diana took flight. Straight up at first and then hard and fast to where they hoped she'd find her missing friends. In no time she was out of sight, leaving Lois only wondering where she was going to store that phone in her pocketless get up…

But casting that thought aside and now stood alone in the dark street, Lois finally answered the call.

"Cirilla, what is it? What have you got?"

"We've got more of the test results in for Wonder Woman's 'bandaged man' from the migrant camp. They're pretty interesting. Thought you'd like to know," Cirilla Biasi's voice replied through the speaker. She could sound very officious at times, but Lois had come to know she was a good woman. Especially as she was the type who was keen to keep the public in the picture. Whether the public needed to know everything or not, at least that was good for Lois' needs.

"A fairly safe assumption," Lois replied. "Alright, you've grabbed my interest. Don't keep me waiting."

"Plethorotomoxifen," Cirilla bluntly answered, doing exactly what Lois had wanted. "It's a hormone therapy drug. We found it in the bandaged man's system. And not just dregs, but masses of it. But the thing is, there shouldn't be any way it should be there. It was designed to help increase muscular growth for people suffering from dystrophy or other similar diseases, or to speed up recovery from serious trauma. But it only ever got to the test stages before it was completely pulled from development the world over. The side affects were too drastic. It was found to interrupt and manipulate the electrical stimuli in the brain, particularly those affecting emotion. In extreme cases…you don't want to know. Just know it was bad enough to stop them going back to the drawing board, to just shut down the programme completely. Until now, we'd thought every last sample of it had been destroyed."

"My god…" Lois breathed, unable to help it. But she knew it made sense. It added up. A strength enhancer, the only reason the bandaged man had been able to face up to Wonder Woman even as little as he had. The removal of emotion, justifying why and how a Nairomian might do things so horrific to their own. But there was more. Cirilla had only finished point one.

"We also found markings beneath the man's hairline once we got in there. Markings that seem to indicate he had undergone some kind of electroconvulsive therapy. But we found no medical evidence for any kinds of disorders, manias or catatonias that would have required it. Our working hypothesis is that the man was forced to undergo the therapy against his will, around the same time the Plethorotomoxifen was being pumped en masse into his bloodstream. Electroconvulsive therapy has been known to cause memory loss, confusion, to impact those all-important electrical signals in the brain. We think whoever did this wanted exactly those things to happen. They wanted to wipe this poor man of everything that made him who he was."

Lois didn't need to ask what Cirilla was getting at. There was an implication to her undertones, one that Lois followed even more than she did Cirilla's words. Suppressed memories, repressed emotions, a confusion of purpose and place… The kind of things that would leave a person a shell, open to suggestion and drive.

The enhanced strength was to create a weapon. The assaults on the man's brain had been to control it.

There was definitely more going on here than corruption, profiteering and kidnap. It was a damn good job that Wonder Woman had gone to that camp when she did, or they might never have uncovered this… Because Lois knew they had to stop it. For the migrants, for the people around them, for whatever they were being weaponised against. Wonder Woman was already on her way in, but suddenly Lois knew that wasn't the end of it. They couldn't afford to leave loos ends unchecked.

Good job Wonder Woman wasn't in this alone then.

"This…Plethoro_whatever_ it was," she began to ask the all important question. "If it was all destroyed, how did it get into the system of the bandaged man?"

"I knew you were going to ask me that," Cirilla voiced her anticipation. "As with all things like this, there is no one easy answer. Samples could have been missed during the purge, gotten out into the black market. Maybe someone from the testing arena fancied making a quick buck. We don't know, but we're starting to dig into it. But if you me to recommend a place to start…there's one of the doctors from the trials, a man with PhDs specialising in both neurology and orthopaedic surgery and emergency medicine, who just happens to be working in the area. After the trials were shut down, it seems he got a job at the Ospedale di Sfortunato emergency department, just down the coast from the Cuore dei Beati Antenati camp. The very hospital where all oversea migrants who come ashore in the region are taken to be checked over and examined for any disease they may be bringing into the country, before they're shipped off to the camps. We're still only starting the investigation, and with what's happening at the dockyards, distractions are running high. This isn't top of our priorities, so we won't be speaking to him for a while yet. But, if by chance you were wanting to… We're hearing he just got paged back in to the hospital, so you should be able to find him there.

"Ask for a Dr. László Valentin."

Once again, Cirilla had been telling Lois something without being able to explicitly say it. This doctor, this surgeon… He'd once had access to the drug that affected the man so. He had the skills and the knowledge to be able to correctly affect both the bandaged man's muscular structure and his mental capacity.

He had the means.

And he now worked at the very hospital all the migrants passed through. He would have been on hand to see them all as they arrived in the country, to observe them. To select his candidates. To know when and where they would be shipped off out to the camps.

He had the opportunity.

It was stacking up again. They just didn't know _why_. Why someone would do this to people. Why they would want to. And what their ultimate goal would be…

There was only one way to find out. Wonder Woman could go kick the door down and save the migrants. But Lois could make sure the full truth would out.

"Thanks Cirilla," she voiced her gratitude. "Let me know if you find out anymore. You know where I'll be."

And with that, she ended the call, quickly clambering into the car and starting up the engine. She had a hospital to get herself to.

And a doctor she needed to talk to.

* * *

It only took her a few minutes to get there, and most of that was spent circling the area from the air trying to pick out the precise address that Breèko had given them. As soon as she had, though, her boots were on the ground, her resolve strong, and she was marching her way towards the doors.

The sign before her was exactly what Breèko had told her to expect, one morbid in and of itself. If this place was a cover, she did not care for the Professor's ironic humour. For the guise of this place was that of a funeral parlour, and not a small one at that. Plenty of space inside to house a large quantity of the taken migrants. Plenty of opportunity to use it as cover for doing who knows what to them. Especially as, uninviting as the exterior looked, not many people were ever likely to just drop by.

But there was another thing that she noticed, something that stood out. All the other buildings around had phone had power lines running from pylons above the street, no signs of any undergrounding having occurred. This building had none. Not one wire overhead leading to it. The implication was obvious. It was isolated. Off the grid. Any power it had must have come from internal generators. As if whoever owned this place wanted to keep everything secluded from the outside world…

It was certainly looking shut down for the night too. Not a single light was on inside, no sign of anyone there to let her in. But she was hardly in any mood for knocking anyway. Which was why, as she strode up to the entrance door, Wonder Woman simply smashed it off of its hinges.

The inside was as equally dark and foreboding as the outside. The customer entrance, the waiting area, looked like it hadn't been properly used in a long time. Dust seemed to be resettling around her, disturbed by the crashing remnants of the doors. While the furniture was still in place, it looked old, out of date. The potted plants, once used to create a more welcoming atmosphere, were dead and shrivelled. But not taken away, not disposed of as if owners had left and moved on. More like to maintain the illusion of activity if someone were not to look too closely, hiding what was really going on inside if you only glanced at the windows.

Yet more evidence. This seemed like it could well be the place. And so it was time to look deeper.

"If there is anyone here, I'm coming inside!" Wonder Woman called out into the darkness as she stepped behind the counter and toward the depths of the building. She wasn't Batman. Hiding in the shadows wasn't her way. If the Professor was still here, she wanted him to know she was too. And if the migrants, if Walif and Amara were here, she wanted them to know that she was coming. "I suggest you show yourselves! I suggest we end this as peacefully as we can!"

But there was no answer, not even a whisper in the dark. It made it seem like Wonder Woman was alone there. Yet Breèko had said that this was where the migrants would be. She wasn't about to walk away without answers. And so she went deeper, into the bowels of the place. Despite the darkness, she kept going.

There really wasn't a light on in there. As she first stepped into the corridor, she saw the switch on the wall from the residual light of the outside, but flicking it did nothing. If this place was powered by generators, they couldn't have been active, no power to the lighting. As Wonder Woman moved further from the outside lights, then, it was a good job Lois had tossed her that second phone. At least it had a torch.

Yet the narrow beam limited what she could see. Corridors and side offices were all glanced into, without anything catching her eyes in what light she had. It wasn't until she got into the much larger room, designed for purposes she didn't want to think about, that something finally did.

The generators. Up ahead, she finally saw them. With a lever on the side glaring her in the face as the on switch for everything. Her boots reverberated like the place was an echo chamber as she stepped towards it. A quick pull, the initial sound of sparks and the subsequent thrum of the machine coming to life, and then the lights finally came on.

Almost immediately, the ongoing sounds of the generator were completely forgotten. Instead, only what she could now suddenly see was in her mind. The surgical table in the centre of the large room. The tray wheeled beside it, layered with scalpels and other, far nastier looking implements. The other trolley, full of specialised looking medical equipment she didn't recognise. The gas tanks attached to patient masks, full of some sort of substance ready to pump into the lungs of whoever lay on that table. The syringes, the vials of some kind of drug.

And the blood. Blood on the table. Blood strewn across the floor. Lots of blood. As if not every surgery done there had designed to sustain life…If any. Blood that included a trail leading from that central table towards one side of the room.

Slowly, Wonder Woman's entire head turned as she followed the trail, hardly daring to look. Where it ended, she couldn't see. There was something out there, but it was covered up by a huge sheet of tarpaulin, left abandoned in a literal attempt to sweep it under the rug. Already, Wonder Woman could guess what was under there, but she knew she needed to see, even though she didn't want to. That was why her next steps were slow, apprehensive. The echo of her footsteps almost as slow and as loud as the beating of her heart. A beating that got even slower as she took hold of the tarpaulin, and slowly began to pull it clear.

When she had, it took all her strength to stop herself from vomiting, her entire insides churning as she immediately retched. It was truly disgusting, barbaric, twisted. Immediately, she was dropping the tarp back over it, but that sight would forever be burned in her mind.

Bodies. Scores of bodies. Bodies horrifically mutilated. Bodies of people who had been sawn apart and put back together in all sorts of disgusting ways. Bodies of innocent people who had been experiment on for someone's sick pleasure. Bodies of migrants.

Whoever this Professor was, Wonder Woman would make him pay.

But first, she had to find if there were any Nairomian's left alive in this place. If there were any the Professor hadn't gotten his sick, twisted hands on yet. Any left to save. Amara… And…

"_Diana…_"

The call was weak. Very weak. Like that of a man with barely any strength left in his body. But Wonder Woman still heard it. And with great relief, she still recognised it. It was Walif.

The call had come from the next room over, an open doorway ahead to Wonder Woman's left. What she had just seen leaving her fearful of what she might find, Wonder Woman immediately took off towards that doorway at full speed, even taking air. She only touched down again as she landed at his side.

Despite the generating being on, this room was still largely in darkness, only a circular area at its centre lit. In there, there were only two things to see, a pair of chairs. One was toppled, strewn on the floor as if knocked over and forgotten about. But in the other, bound by chains securing him to both chair and ground, was Walif.

Immediately she was snapping every last chain binding him down as if they were nothing but matchsticks, but they weren't everything keeping him down. She had seen it straight away, but up close they were even more obvious. The wounds. The bruising. The cuts. The punctures. The burn marks still reeking of sizzled flesh and cloth. His left arm looked twisted and broken. The stump of his leg was exposed, burnt, impaled. His right eye socket so swollen he could barely see from it, jaw looking particularly battered.

This one wasn't a surgery, an experiment. It was nothing but torture.

"Walif, what happened, where's Amara?" Diana quickly asked him as she knelt over him, gently holding his face so that his lolling head looked towards her. She wanted him to see her face, to look into her eyes. She wanted him to know she was there, to find comfort that she had saved him. To find comfort in knowing she was going to save the love of his life.

If only she could find her…

Walif struggled to answer. He seemed to be barely conscious, as if the most recent beating had not been long ago. A part of her wished he wouldn't, that he would conserve his strength, but the other part knew he had to. Not only to help her save Amara, but also to keep on fighting. To not give up, despite what they had done to him. Because that fight, despite how weak he was, Walif used his strength. He determinedly spoke anyway, just about getting the words out that Wonder Woman could hear.

"The…Pyg. It was the Pyg… He… Did something to her… To _them_… He's…insane. Says its all about…perfection. My leg… My _missing_ leg… Said it made me…_imperfect. _Said… imperfection couldn't be allowed… All of the…people he'd changed…his…_Dolls…_ He…had them beat me…Beat me to a pulp… Forced…Amara to watch… Wanted…to see how…she'd react… Whether…she could…still feel…love…"

"Where is she Walif?" Wonder Woman could have said all manner of other things. She was increasingly disgusted by this Professor after all. But she had to keep focus. She had to find Amara.

"He…did something to her…" Walif repeated. It was clear he didn't know exactly what, but his horrified face spoke volumes. "Even…before the beatings… It was…her he really wanted… Why they…took both of us… I was…expendable… A test… But her… He…injected her… Electrocuted…her brain… Tried…to make her as mindless…as the bandaged man…as the Dolls… Trying to make her…stop fearing him… To stop…hating him… To…eradicate her…ability to _love_… To…_love me_… The beatings… They were…the test if it had worked… If she was…as _controlled_…as is Dolls…"

"Where is she?" Wonder Woman asked all over again. Walif's information was useful, important. But the most important piece still wasn't there. "Where have they gone now? I can still save her Walif. I can. Just help me find her. Where has she gone…?"

But the answer she got, it didn't come from Walif. The sound of footsteps were softer than Wonder Woman's own, more the patter of bare feet on the concrete. But it was unmistakable, immediately making Wonder Woman look up to the far side of the room. The lighting as it was, she saw nothing at first, but she knew someone was coming. Then, even more footsteps.

Wonder Woman rose, but stayed close to Walif, standing between him and the footsteps, making sure she kept him covered. Because she knew they were coming before the ring of them arrived. The Dolls, as Walif had called them. The bandaged men and women. Just like the man in the camp who had attacked her. The people who had once been innocent migrants, twisted into monsters by the Professor. By the _Pyg._

An entire ring of them stepped forward, right at the edge of the circle of light that Wonder Woman stood in the centre of. Silent, yet menacing all the way. But still, Wonder Woman barely looked at them. Instead, her eyes were focussed on the one gap those Dolls had left in the ring. The gap soon being filled as the last footsteps finally ceased.

Wonder Woman had asked where Amara was. Now she had her answer.

Amara was there. There _among_ the Dolls. Her head was free from bandages, but it was clear where she stood. Her eyes were blank, even with the battered and broken Walif before her. Eyes which in that camp had been so warm and full of life. Eyes now as hollow as the scores behind the bandages beside her…

Walif had said the Professor had done something to her, to control her, to take away her love. It seemed like he had succeeded. And that fact alone was breaking Wonder Woman's heart all over again. She didn't need Amara to speak to confirm that, but speak she did anyway, her voice nothing more than a heartless, robotic drone.

"The Professor's work must be completed. Pyg must known if perfection has been achieved. If the imperfection that is love can be eradicated. I must prove this to him. I must destroy that which I loved before I was made perfect. I must kill Walif Melaku Dagmawi."

"No…Amara, don't do this…" The words slipped from Wonder Woman without thought, barely more than a whisper and in full knowledge that they would make no difference. More than anything, it was her way of voicing her heartbreak. Because she could tell the Pyg had succeeded in whatever he had tried to do to Amara. Now her only hope was that it could be undone. That Wonder Woman could find a way to undo it.

But first, she had to stop what was unfolding. She had to stop her killing Walif, the man Diana knew Amara truly loved, no matter what the Pyg had done.

A fact brought home all the more as, before Wonder Woman's eyes, she saw the now heartless Amara raise a gun. A gun she aimed straight towards the silent Walif. Wonder Woman made sure she stepped in the way, continuing to stare Amara down. She had to know. She had to know that Diana wasn't going to let her do this. That there was another way.

"Amara, please…"

But Amara didn't seem to care. She didn't care if she had to get through Wonder Woman first. She showed no fear, no anger, no compassion, no love. All she had was what Pyg had given her. The gun, the need to kill. And so, with two quick squeezes of the trigger, she fired.

Wonder Woman's fists flew quickly, deflecting both the one meant for her and the delayed one meant for Walif once she had fallen. The richoets both smashed against the floor, embedding themselves in the concrete as Wonder Woman took great care not to hit any of the Dolls. They were just like Amara. They were all just like Amara. Broken, bent to another's will, their personality and feelings suppressed. But all innocent. All needing Wonder Woman to save them.

But because of what Pyg had done to them, their reactions were those of people looking to be saved. Instead, the reaction was that of more footsteps. More of them. More of them were coming. Far more than Diana could see in the dark room. All intent on just one thing, without having any need to say it. They needed to help the Pyg complete his work. To do that, they needed Amara to kill Walif. To do _that_, they needed Wonder Woman out the way. And they would do exactly that. No matter what they had to do to make it happen.

It was the calm before the storm. The fight was coming. A fight that Wonder Woman knew she could win. These Dolls could not match her for strength, or for speed, no matter what Pyg had done to them. But they were _innocent_. And if there was one thing Wonder Woman lived by, one thing she wanted for this world, it was that no innocent would come to harm.

"Amara…" she begged again, desperate but knowing it was futile. Amara made that point extra clear.

"Pyg's work _must_ be complete," she reiterated. "It must. You will comply, or you will die."

"I will not let you kill him," Wonder Woman refused, knowing exactly what that meant. She was going to have to fight the very people she had come there to save.

Amara, for her part, merely continued to stare blankly back, her gun still pointed right at Diana's head. "So be it."

Then, with another squeeze of the trigger, all hell broke loose.

With that other squeeze of the trigger, the Dolls attacked.

* * *

In the middle of the night, she had expected to the place quiet. Or at least as quiet as an emergency ward might get. What she was fighting was anything but. In fact, it was simply pandemonium.

Lois was stood out front, as close as she could get to the main entrance way without being steamrollered by all the activity. It felt like scores of ambulances were streaming in, not to mention the paramedics, nurses and doctors swarming around as the injured and the sick they carried were ferried inside. And that wasn't even accounting for the relatives, the concerned bystanders. The journalists. Something had happened…

"Excuse me," Lois finally saw her opportunity to step forward and grab some answers. One of the paramedics, fresh from delivering another patient inside, had come bounding out ready to move their ambulance and get back to work. He was clearly busy, clearly intent on getting away, but Lois had a way of getting what she needed, even if only from a soundbite. "What's going on? What's happened?"

The paramedic paused, giving her a dirty look at first that she completely understood, but then gave the hurried answer. "What hasn't? A ship jam packed to the rafters trying to smuggle illegal migrants into the country just went down five miles off the coast. A major fire at an apartment complex across town that was full of people. And a police incident down the docks, with scores of walking wounded. All survivors from both incidents are having to be diverted here. Any other care needs, I'm afraid you're going to have to go to the Ospedale Vejovis across town. Now miss, I need to go…"

Lois didn't even try to stop him, barely even noticing as he ran off to his ambulance. Instead, she was turning back towards that hospital entrance, to what lay inside. Cirilla had said this Dr Valentin had been paged in. There was no wonder, if all that had gone on. All that, on tonight of all nights…

Coincidence…?

Throughout the years, through all the stories, Lois had seen a lot in her life. Warzones, victims, all sorts of nasty things. Maybe that was why she was able to seamlessly drift through the entrance to the hospital without becoming caught up in the fervour and manic activity, in the sight of burnt and drowned and beaten and bleeding people on trolleys everywhere she looked. The cries of pain and fear and the desperate actions to try and save them. Almost like she was on autopilot, she sailed straight through it, kind of like an out of body experience as she headed beyond. Some people might have called it a gift to ignore such pain around her. Honestly though, if it weren't for her own quest to save lives, Lois would have been feeling guilty.

But there was a quest. Someone had committed other horrors, forceful transformation to those innocent migrants. Taking advantage of people desperately seeking a new life by ripping to shreds. Lois couldn't help the patients in that hospital any more than she could help Wonder Woman in a fist fight. But she could stop this guy.

And so, sidestepping her way past all the other activity, she finally reached her target. The front desk. A wave of her hand was all she offered to draw the attention of the busy receptionist, clearly inundated with concerned relatives, panicked friends and the endless stream of walking wounded needing booking in. Once again, Lois knew she had to be quick.

"I'm looking for Dr László Valentin," she practically had to shout over the noise of the crowds around her. Hoping it would speed things along, she hurriedly drew out her press credentials from the UN session at Catania. "Its urgent."

The receptionist, though, took one look at Lois' credentials, her forehead creasing in disbelief before she gestured to the chaos around them. "I'm sorry, but can't you see what's happening here? Whatever you have to say to Dr. Valentin will have to wait. The doctors need to do their wor–"

"It's a missing persons case," Lois interrupted, knowing she had to. She also had a pretty good card to play. This was clearly someone who cared in a place for people who cared. The sympathy card would always have sway, especially when played with honesty. "Please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Migrants from the camps at Messina, dozens of them. They've been abducted, but the authorities aren't even looking for them. One has already turned up dead in horrific fashion. More will follow. Unless I can find them. And I think Dr Valentin can help. Please. Lives are on the line…"

Once again, the receptionist at first could only look back at Lois with a frown. Perhaps it was what Lois had just set. Perhaps it was the throngs of other patients and relatives trying to get her attention. Whatever it was, that frown finally softened.

"We had to call him in last minute. We needed the help, but as he was less prepared he was posted to cover the less critical cases. He was posted to cubicles, non-emergency triage. Through there."

The receptionist pointed Lois towards a set of doors. At the same time, she saw as a nurse ran through, scurrying with some sort of saline bag in her hand towards someone who needed the care. But what it did do was give her a glimpse of those cubicles the receptionist meant. She could already see a more clinical environment than out here in the waiting area, albeit one every bit as jam packed. In response, she merely glanced back to the receptionist. A nod and a vocalised thanks, and then she was off again.

Once again she had to dodge her way through the crowds to get there, but no one opposed her. No one stopped her following that nurse in pushing her way through those doors. And no one questioned her as she moved on through to where the action was happening.

This may not have been the emergency room, but that didn't mean there wasn't plenty of urgent and important treatment going on all around her. Curtained off beds were all around the place, surrounding a central nurses station. As she stepped into the midst of it, Lois tried best not to stare. She could pick out the drowned Nairomians from the burnt locals by sound alone, but as before she tried her best to block it all out. She was here for one thing and one thing alone. Valentin. As she looked around the pandemonium, it was all designed on finding him.

But of course, it didn't help that she had no idea what he looked like…And unlike outside, here she had no chance to stop and ask. Here all the people who would know were busy. All with patients, or all arranging urgent care. She didn't want to interrupt, not if she could help it. Perhaps that was why, at first, she just ended up drifting, like a log on the ocean, carried only by the current and the tide.

At least, that was, until one of the cubicles finally caught her eye, and she found herself unable to simply tear it away.

It wasn't a cubicle that she could see from where she'd entered the triage area. It was off to the back, out of the way, discrete. If she hadn't have wound up aimlessly stepping around the entire place looking out for the doctor, then she might not have even known it was hiding back here. But now she was stood right outside it and, curtains left ajar, once her gaze was caught there was no backing away.

There was no doctor in this cubicle, no nurse. In fact, it was probably the only one in the entire place with no medical personnel busily working away inside of it. But it wasn't empty. There were two people in there. Two people who were clearly from Nairomi. One on the bed, one in the chair beside it. From how wet and bedraggled they were, it was clear that both had been on the boat that had gone down. It looked like the one in the chair had actually managed to make it out relatively scot-free. The one in the bed had a nasty looking head wound where they had clearly banged it and likely water inhalation, but not enough for drowning. Hence the non-emergency care.

But it was none of that that had so caught Lois' eye. No, that was because both of them were slumped, unconscious. That was because both had an oxygen mask glued to their faces. The patient and the friend.

Masks connected to a tank that lay at the foot of their bed.

A connection that looked more hurriedly put in and less professionally done than all the others she had ever seen, than the ones she had drifted past outside.

Almost as if that wasn't just oxygen these two people were being made to breathe…

A thought had definitely struck Lois, a thought she wasn't too keen on. She had come here looking for the person who had used drugs, gases and medical expertise to experiment and alter the Nairomian migrants against their will. What she was seeing in that cubicle…

She could have just stumbled on exactly that happening again. Beneath everyone's very noses.

She didn't know what made her look up then. Perhaps she caught the movement in her eye corners. Whatever it was, she felt a sudden instinct to look up to her left, off towards another entrance to the cubicle area, opposite the one she had come through. And as she did, Lois found herself staring into a set of eyes that were staring right back.

It was a corridor out that way. What it lead to Lois didn't know, but this man had clearly been striding down it, heading this way. A podgy man, not short but with a gut on him. And slicked black hair that looked dyed, evidently immaculately combed. This man…this _doctor_. He wore the white coat. He had the stethoscope around his neck. The gloves on his hand. The surgical mask covering his face, hiding his visage.

But Lois could see his eyes, and that was all she needed to see. In them, she could see his surprise, almost a fear. In them, she could tell that he wasn't expecting there to be someone else looking into that cubicle.

In them, she could tell that he didn't want her there.

In them, she could tell that he was the man who had gassed the two patients in that cubicle.

In them, she could tell that this was the man she was looking for…

In them, she had come face to face with Dr Valentin.

For a long moment, there was nothing either of them could do but stare, both caught out by the moment. But then, before Lois could react, the doctor turned sharply on his heel, scurrying back away from whence he'd came. He shoved the swinging double doors out of his way, scuttling down the corridor. He wasn't technically running, clearly trying to somewhat act casual, but in that he was failing. It was clear that he had only one thought in mind. To get away from her.

And down the years, Lois had always found that the person who didn't want to talk to her was usually exactly the one who had to… There was nothing else for it. As soon as she could get her legs going again, she was giving chase.

But she wasn't stupid. If this was the guy… Even before she too was bursting through those double doors, her phone was glued to her ear, the dial tone ringing her other device. Ringing Wonder Woman. Up ahead, she could see the doctor moving, navigating around the nurses in a hurry. She kept after him, still waiting for the phone to be answered.

Evidently, though, Wonder Woman was busy. No doubt she had her own situation. Not wanting to hang about, though, Lois quickly hung up. Dr Valentin was still scurrying, trying to lose her in all of the activity of the hospital corridors.

The temptation to shout after him was strong, but Lois resisted. She didn't want to make a scene. She didn't want to create a scenario when he really would run. And she definitely didn't want to create a scenario where, if he was the guy, he would end up putting bystanders in danger to escape from her. No, she had to catch him. She had to get him alone. Luckily, in just a few more moments it seemed like she would get her chance.

"Everybody out of the way!"

The shout came from another group of medics. From up ahead, they rounded the bend in the corridor. Between them they were wheeling a patient on a trolley, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere, to some other room, to some sort of specialised equipment. An urgent hurry too, considering one of them had already clambered onto the trolley and was giving the patient emergency CPR. They were coming through, no matter what. Valentin, up ahead, was able to dart down that other bend in the corridor to avoid them. As for Lois, she had to press herself up tight against the wall and wait for the group to pass by. By the time the trolley had wheeled passed and she was moving again, Valentin had had plenty of chance to get away.

Which meant that Lois really did scuttle after him now. Practically bounding her way there, she raced to that bend in the corridor…only to say no sign of Valentin.

It was a long, unwinding corridor this one as well. No doors down it nearby either, nowhere where Valentin could have ducked and covered. Nowhere, except beyond the cordon.

It looked like there was renovation works going on. Perhaps structural, perhaps merely cosmetic, but something requiring enough time and space to complete that a section of such a busy hospital needed to locked down. Which meant it was an area that should have been empty. And an area that would be perfect to hide in…

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, Lois hopped the cordon herself. Her first steps were quick, urgent, the effort to catch up. Down here was another corridor, an entire wing. Valentin was nowhere to be seen, but down here there were plenty of places to hide. Up a head, on the right, was exactly such a place.

A door. Not open exactly, but ajar. Ajar as if recently opened. Lois slowed when she saw it, once again looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. But as she looked at it, plenty of thoughts went through Lois' mind. Over the years, she'd been in enough scrapes. She'd gotten into trouble more than enough times, had more near misses than she could count. She trusted her skill to survive. She trusted her friends to have her back if needed it. But she also trusted herself to recognise the signs, and to be able to ignore them and press on anyway.

But she was no fool. Which was why, before she took even another step, she once again had that phone in hand. Only this time, she simply sent Wonder Woman a message. A message that was just a few words long.

_'Ospedale di Sfortunato. Dr László Valentin. I'm going in.'_

Then, advancing with caution but no longer holding back, Lois moved up to beside that door. With a gentle shove and a creak of hinges, she had it swinging open.

It was dark inside, almost pitch black, but there was another light for Lois to pick out the dangling chain of a light switch above her head. Reaching up, she gave it a pull. There was a fizzing sound at first, then the clacking of power. Then the bulb finally flickered into life. It wasn't the most powerful, but at least it was enough to see.

It was a storeroom. Shelves lined the walls, largely emptied as the resources were diverted to the open areas of the hospital. But it wasn't really the shelves that were catching Lois' eye. For right in the middle of the floor of that room was the mask. The surgical mask. Just like the one the doctor had been wearing. Now tossed aside.

"Hello?" Lois called out at last. If this place was empty, then this was exactly the chance she was waiting for. As she called, Lois looked around her once again, but could see no sign of him. "Doctor Valentin, are you there? I just need to talk to you. I need your help."

But there was no answer, no further sign. No sign other than the mask. The mask that didn't get there by itself. Lois was convinced. And so she stepped inside, stooping down to pick it up.

She knew the risks. She knew that if this man was the villain, then now was the time to be afraid. But she was also determined. Determined to get the truth. Determined to put an end to what was happening to those migrants. Determined to get the story. Determined that all those things were more important than fear. A determination that served her well as she slowly stood, mask now in hand.

For as she had been rising, the footsteps had finally sounded. Footsteps that somehow came from behind her. It had always been the gamble, the trap. But she'd known that was possible, and she'd known it was worth springing.

Sometimes, facing the danger was the only way the truth would out. Sometimes to stop evil, you had to be brave. And now, as she found herself once again staring into those eyes, Lois knew she had to be brave.

It was the good doctor, alright. Only while he had discarded his surgical one, he seemed to have found himself a whole new mask…

"There is no Valentin," he said as he menacingly stepped forward, his rippling, rotund body stepping forward like a tumbling boulder. His voice was muffled, no wonder with that mask but as if there was also a filter shielding his mouth. Regardless, the depravity of his voice remained unmissable. "There is only the Pyg."

The Pyg… It took all of Lois' resolve to hold her ground in the face of this madman, but there was still more she needed. More truths to out. And to get them, she had to let this play out. She had to face him.

He wore the mask. The mask of a pig. The head of a pig. And his eyes, now they truly looked psychotic. Turned out Lois didn't need to say a single word to start to get the truth. He had already offered it to her. There was no doubt. László Valentin was the Professor, the one Breèko had warned them about. The one who had been responsible for the abductions of the migrants. Who had forcibly put them through horrendous procedures, drugged them into doing his bidding, and forced them into the most horrific of deaths. The Professor.

Professor Pyg…

"And I know who you are, Lois Lane of the Daily Planet," 'Pyg' went on before Lois could respond. "I know what you do. I know that your words could prove vital to herald the perfection I achieve the whole world over. But it is too soon. Yes, too soon for them all to know. Too soon. My tests are incomplete. The distribution systems are untested. My test are…in progress. But, the renowned lover of Superman… She would be the _perfect _test. A perfect witness to the perfect test. To the _end of love_."

Lois had known she had to be brave, but she'd also banked on knowing the right moment to back away. She'd reckoned a second too late. She had Pyg talking. She knew that he would reveal his plan. But she had to make sure she was still around to try to stop him.

But before she could react, he struck. She hadn't seen his fist, the clenched hand, until too late. Now, he thrust it towards her face, but not as a punch. Instead, he merely squeezed it tighter. Squeezed what it _held_ tighter. And in doing so, he broke its capsule.

And in turn, send the stream of gas spewing straight into Lois' face.

Left coughing and spluttering as it seeped into her lungs, bruned into her pores, scoured at her eyes, for a second Lois was left helpless, even before its effects had took hold. Which meant there was also nothing she could initially do as Pyg leapt forward again. As he made to grab for her. Grabbed for her head, her temples.

As he thrust the electrodes towards her skull.

As he tried to do to her exactly what he had been doing to those migrants.

As he tried to destroy her mind…

And then, in that moment, as the pain of the current engulfed her, there was nothing Lois could do but scream.


	6. 6,1: Valentin's Day, Part I

**6.1: Valentin's Day, Part I**

_Clark…_

Fear. Fear she was losing him. No…_NO! _Love. It was love. She loved him! She…loved…

Kent.

Colleague. Journalist. Rival. Useful. _Useable_…

NO! No… He was no mere tool! He wasn't in her head for those reasons. It was because she loved him. She _loved him…_

Superman…

She felt nothing… She felt _everything_…

The chaos through her head was explosive. Excruciating. But through it, she had to think. She had to focus. She had to focus or all was lost. Yet her mind was stuck between two places. The here and now. And Clark…

Her love for him… The love that was being taken away. The growing feeling of _empty_ feelings…

_NO_!

A regular person would have succumbed. The pain would have taken them. It would have left them open to the Pyg. They would already be his latest victim. But not her. Not with her legendary resolve, her grit, forever pushing her on. Pushing her on even through the screams, through the feelings of buzzsaws tearing through her skull. Pushing her to remember the truth. The truth that her love would never die. Pushing her to fight to save it.

The pain was blinding. She couldn't see, nothing out there except the visions in her mind's eye. Visions of Superman, Clark, their life. And visions of the Pyg. That mask.

That gas.

Those electrodes.

And visions of her forearms swinging wild before her, spreading a swooping arc from her sides to her over her head, swung with every bit of force she'd got.

She might not have been able to really see it, but she definitely felt the impact. Felt as she struck forearm to forearm. Then she definitely heard the yelp, the squeal of pain. Immediately followed by the relief, by the sudden drop of current coursing through her brain, the release of pressure as the electrodes were flung away.

And then, finally, Lois could see again. Could see what was real. Her action had knocked back the Pyg, but she didn't have long. Already he was swinging those electrodes back towards her. If she could see his face, she was certain it would be twisted with rage. Desperate to take her mind from her, her love.

But she was just as desperate not to let him. With no regard to the fall, her only way out was to hurl herself backwards, slamming herself down towards the deck. She avoided those returning electrodes just in the nick of time. The sizzled through the air, the power visible at their tips as Pyg looped them in. But without her head their to impact, and without the reaction time to stop himself, all he succeeded in doing was jamming them into his own wrists.

Once again, the yelp leapt from his throat, the tightening of his muscles only making him grip the electrodes tighter against his own flesh. Eventually he managed to tear them away, but by then she'd bought herself enough time. Scrambling, feet almost slipping on the ground in her desperation, Lois was dragging herself back up to her feet. Up and racing back to the doorway, to the corridors. To any way out of here. Away from the Pyg.

She'd chased him in need of finding the truth. In proving that Valentin was the one cursing the migrants. Now she knew it for sure, she needed anything but to chase him. Not when he had the power to destroy her too, and she hadn't the means to stop him. Not when that gas of his was still in her lungs. When, even with the electrodes, it was still clouding her mind…

Clark. Dammit, she needed him! She needed to remember…she loved him! She _needed _to remember…

And she needed to run. Her entire body weight slammed in the door as Lois charged out through it without even a second glance behind her. Immediately as she entered the corridor, instinct took over even more. She'd come from the left, from the hospital, from among the crowds of the sick and wounded and the people trying to save them. Now she had no option but to turn right. No option unless she wanted to make them _all_ targets. No, she knew Pyg would be chasing her now. To stop her from revealing the truth. She couldn't lead him back to all those people had give him even more targets. She could only hope that there was even more of this hospital vacated than she had first thought, that there was enough of it empty to try to evade him for as long as she could. As long as it would take to figure out a way to take him down without losing herself in the process.

Or as long as it would take for the cavalry to arrive.

Clark, as he often did when she was in trouble. Or Diana. Diana who was close by. Diana who had been told where she was.

Diana who she could call for help…

Sprinting to the end of the corridor, Lois desperately made the grab, despite even that mere motion partially compromising her precious speed. But it meant that, as she drew close to bend, she had the phone in her hand. It helped that Wonder Woman was the last person she messaged. As she turned on the screen while still surging forwards, it meant that in next to no time she had it ringing. But from there, as started to skid her way round the bend at corridor's end, starting to raise it was as far as she got.

Because it was then that the hurled meat cleaver ripped it from her grasp. And took plenty of her flesh with it...

She was amazed she heard the thud as the cleaver embedded itself in the wall right beside her head, her scream of pain had been so loud. A huge gash had been opened up in her arm where the blade had sailed through, the shooting pain causing her to drop the device. Blood was already starting to stream out and down her arm, oozing to the floor below.

But while the blow definitely slowed her, she still couldn't stop. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop to pick up the device either. Because glancing back, the Pyg was on his way. He was coming, coming for her, coming to end her. For a bulky man, his movement was remarkably swift, clearly driven on by his own indomitable resolve. All of it making it ever clearer. Lois _had _to get away. Or she really was lost.

Another corridor lay before her, a twisting labyrinth of thankfully abandoned turns and straights in the closed off wing. Bends, turns, rooms, they were all to her favour, all of them helping her keep the Pyg behind her. A need emphasised all the more as she dared glance back to see him forcefully retrieving his deadly cleaver from the wall. But, holding her arm tight to try and stem the blood, Lois knew she couldn't stop to hide.

Not with the red trail she was leaving behind her now...

"You cannot get away, Lois Lane!"

As the voice of the Pyg shouted after her, it was almost like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Just the sound of it made Lois cast another panicked glance back at him, encroaching like an infallible killing machine. The cleaver handle was now clutched tightly in his right hand, the blunt side of the blade resting in his left. It wasn't the grip of a man preparing to hurl it again, but it was a grip of threatening possibility. Even more threatening than the words he continued to call after her as she ran.

"You cannot get away because I cannot let you! I cannot let you stop _perfection_! You cannot stop my work, my purpose, the betterment of all humanity _at my hand_! You cannot warn a people not yet freed of their emotions, of their love! Because no one who loves can embrace my _perfection_! And nothing can be allowed to stand in its way! _All love will be conquered! _And _I _can conquer it!"

_Dammit Clark, where are you...? _It was the first thought that once again ran through Lois' mind, even though she knew he was nowhere near. Was almost certainly busy saving the world his way. It was the effect everytime Pyg used the word 'love'. It made her think of him. The one she loved.

Which served to add to her fear, reminding her what, if she didn't keep running, she might be about to lose. But at least it also told her one thing. The gas that Pyg used on her, it hadn't been enough. The cloud in her mind was lifting, her system clearing its fog from her body. Pyg must have needed to electrocute her mind more to make it stick. She still knew how to love.

At least, she did as long as she stayed alive...

But once again, Pyg seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.

"You only got a taste of the path to perfection, _Lois!_" he continued to yell as he continued to advance. "An earlier sample of the gas, a _test! _But as with everything, I have _perfected it_! I have developed it, taken away the need for the electrodes, for the exposure! I have made the means to free so many of love's binds, all at once! I was investigating it on the migrants when you interrupted. But now that you've interfered, I won't risk any further delays to the tests!

"The clock is ticking Miss Lane! Everything is already in place! Soon this entire hospital will be flooded with the gas, taking everyone inside it one step further on the path to perfection!

"And you cannot stop it. _No one can stop it! _All you can do is succumb, to _embrace perfection!_ I will take your mind first Lois! I will take you before I take them all! I will stop you warning the imperfections what is coming! And then I will make you watch as we take our leap _forward_! A front row seat at _my side_!"

"_You cannot escape me! You cannot escape the Pyg!_"

Everybody...? The gas, the electrodes as used on her, as used on the bandaged man, as used on those two in the cubicle, that had all been bad enough. But it had been small scale. Containable. Limited. But if Pyg had the ability to harm everyone, to infect everyone all at once... To take their minds, as Lois had come so close to losing hers at his hand...

Things had already looked bleak. Now they were even worse. There was only one thing still in her favour – Pyg's apparent obsession with her, gained from the moment she'd became the one to track him down. As long as she could keep one step ahead of him, she was buying the people in this building time. She knew she couldn't fight him. Especially not with the gash in her arm. Especially not with the cleaver held in his hand. She had to keep running. But as long as she could keep him at bay, she bought herself time to figure out some way, any way, of getting these people out of here. And as long as she could keep him at bay, the more chance she had that Wonder Woman would finally pick up her message, and swoop in to save the day.

But until then, she had to keep running. She had to keep Pyg back. She had to buy time...

And as the sign on the wall up ahead caught her eye, she suddenly had a plan. It was so simple, but if it actually worked, it could mean so much to so many.

A lift. An elevator up ahead. If she could get enough of a lead on Pyg by the time she reached it, maybe only ten or fifteen seconds worth... And if the damn thing was still running in this empty wing... It could take her away from him in a way he couldn't quickly follow. It could offer her just enough breathing space to try and figure a way out of this.

_If_... But Pyg was close. Too close. According to the lift wasn't far enough ahead, barely around the next bend. Even if she could bring herself to run faster, Lois knew she wouldn't be able to open up that kind of lead on him in time. Not unless there was something she could do to temporarily slow him down.

Once again, the simple answer held the key. Once again, looking forwards showed her the way. In all her sprinting down this sealed off wing of the hospital, she had so far seen no sign of why it had been cordoned off, of the apparent refurbishment works needing it so empty. Now she saw the first ones. Like her plan, it was deliciously simple, but while that wouldn't tantamount much to the renovations it, it would to her. A simple work bench, topped with several rollers, brushes and cans of paint. Including one can which Lois' trained journalistic eye immediately spotted hadn't been properly sealed...

Lois didn't slow any more than she had too. She kept running forward, straight towards the workbench. But as she did so, she finally released the gash in her arm, instead snatching out with the other one. As she sprinted by, the handle of the can snagged in her grasp, its weight immediately dragging her down. But she had no intention of carrying it far. Instead, she was already spinning, swinging with all of her weight. Like an olympian throwing the hammer.

And then she hurled it at the Pyg with everything she'd got.

She barely even looked if it had worked, instead putting all her focus back into the sprint, into getting away. But the commotion, the clattering, the yelp, the noise told her everything. The can had indeed struck home. It had knocked him clean off his feet, slamming him down to the floor. Lois hoped for more too, but daren't check. She'd done it, she managed to buy herself time, at least as long as it took Pyg to get back after her again. She couldn't waste it now.

Sprinting, she made it round the next bend in the corridor, and she saw her golden hope. The lift, waiting up ahead. With every ounce of pace she could drag from her body she surged for it. As she reached it, she'd barely even managed to slow herself to a stop when she was jabbing the call button.

In that instant, time itself seemed to stop dead. Paranoia filled her mind, the fear that, in the lock down of this wing, the lifts would have been deactivated. That her chance of getting away might never have existed in the first place...

Because of that, the 'ping' as the doors crept apart a mere second later was almost euphoric. Practically bouncing on her heels, Lois was diving through the gap as soon as the narrow opening was barely wide enough for her to pass. Almost without looking, she was then immediately jamming her finger repeatedly into the button for highest floor she could take it too. It was only four up, but four could mean the world.

Yet as she pushed it, time once again stood still. Because now she was also facing out of the lift, back out into that corridor as she painfully waited for those doors to once again close. And in doing so, she was left motionless, in the hands of the gods, nowhere left to run as the Pyg came that bend.

Paint, ironically red, had splattered not only his pristine lab coat, but also across his pig's mask. It looked both like blood and like the battle paint of ancient warriors. If anything, it made him look even more ferocious, even more psychotic. Especially with that cleaver still held menacingly in his grasp, more ready to plunge into her than ever before.

And it made Lois even more desperate to escape. Yet the only means she had was to repeatedly manically slam her finger against the button to seal the doors, to get the lift moving again. But it felt like nothing was happening, especially as Pyg got closer, and closer, and closer...

At long last they started to move again, even more euphorically than before. But they felt slow, so very slow. And Pyg looked fast, so very fast... It was a race, a race Lois couldn't impact. And a race with life on the line. With love itself on that line...

Pyg was coming...

The doors were only half shut...

The cleaver, it was already starting to swing...

He was almost there...!

The doors were still moving!

Lois couldn't help it. Instinctively she took a step backwards. Instinctively, she allowed herself to fall, to get out of the way of the blade that was almost on top of her. The blade that looked like it had one. Yet her eyes, they could only look into the eyes of the Pyg. Into the insane psychosis. Into the end...

Only to hear the clang. The scraping sound. The thud. To feel the jarring jerk, the sense of motion.

To realise that it wasn't the end.

The timing couldn't have been any more heart pounding, or also any more lifesaving. The lift doors, so painfully slow, and closed just in time. Just in the instant Pyg had reached them. Just as he was swinging the cleaver at Lois' head in a fit of rage. Just in time to trap the thin blade in their grasp as it had tried to pass through.

The razor sharp edge was clutched, but nothing else peeked through the now seal slabs of metal. Pyg was out of sight, those eyes so menacing lost behind the door. And not only that, but the lift had started to rise too, the blades edge sliding relentlessly down to the floor as Pyg apparently desperately tried to hold on, to prise the doors back open again. But then the blade stopped moving, obviously wrenched from his grasp as his mere human strength was nothing against the mechanisms and weight of the elevator.

She'd done it. She'd gotten away. And there was nothing that could stop the huge sigh of relief escaping from Lois' lips.

But as she dragged herself back to her feet, hand once again putting pressure on her wound, Lois knew it was a very temporary relief. Pyg would be coming. He would be able to see where she had gone, and she knew he wasn't going to let her get away. He would be coming for her. Coming for all of them.

Coming to take her and everyone else in this hospital to his sadistic take on perfection. To a living hell.

Time was of the essence. Lois _had _to figure out some way to stop him. Fast.

If only she had some way to warn Wonder Woman of what was happening...

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**So you may have guessed from the title, but this is actually only part of Chapter 6. Circumstances meant this was the only bit I could get down til now, the first of three planned POV segments in Chapter 6. But I wanted to hit my self-imposed Thursday release dates somehow, given a recent track record of long delays.**_

_**And it was also the choice of a certain friend of mine to do it this way, rather than delay and release Chapter 6 all together. So if you don't like this approach, blame her! ;)**_

_**Anyways, please review away... Til next time, folks!**_


	7. 6,2: Valentin's Day, Part II

**_A/N:_**

_**So...Almost exactly three weeks after I last managed to do an update! Things came up, got in the way. Hadn't been able to write a single word until today...when I've just cracked out over 6,000 in a matter of a few hours. So please forgive any typos, but I'm posting it straight up so as not to delay any longer! Wouldn't want you all to go thinking I'd forgotten about you now!**_

_**But here it is... The longer awaited second part... Ride ain't over yet.**_

* * *

**6.2: Valentin's Day, Part II**

Forearms thrown up in front of her, the sound of the ricochets pinged through the room as Wonder Woman deflected all of the bullets meant to bring her down. In a swift action, she darted forward too, leaning into it to get herself there that fraction quicker. Barely a few seconds after Amara had opened fire on her, Wonder Woman was on top of her. A flick of her shoulder and she jammed her wrist up, forcing the bracelet hard into the barrel of the gun. Not only was it a motion to stop the latest shot, but it also knocked Amara's grasp slightly skywards. And that was all the opening Diana needed.

Snatching out with her other hand, she ripped the weapon out of Amara's grasp. Before the altered woman could even contemplate responding, Wonder Woman had made sure the pistol would be killing no one that day. In a feat of strength, she tore the barrel of it clean apart, ripping her arms wide to throw the pieces scattering everywhere.

But it was also the fraction of time that the bandaged Dolls needed to advance. Walif was injured, he couldn't move. But they certainly could. And like Amara, they had clearly been programmed by the Pyg to one end; make sure that Amara killed him. Wonder Woman could take the Dolls on, every last one of them. She knew it and they knew it. But it seemed they didn't care. Not so long as they did what Pyg had told them to do, and proved that he had indeed ended love.

And now the whole ring of them were advancing on Walif. Barely even registering how Amara was reacting to the destruction of her weapon, Wonder Woman had to act fast. A whirl of motion, she simultaneously spun, dropped to on knee and flung her lasso out with as much force as she could muster with the flick of her wrist. But not to ensnare them. No, instead she used it more like a whip, a tripwire. Thrown in a wide, sweeping arc, it tore a semi-circle through the room. And with enough force behind it and enough Gods-given tensile strength in the cords, there was no stopping it. Smashing through them one by one around knee high, it brought every last one of the Dolls closing on Walif smashing down to the deck.

Wonder Woman barely had time to spot the momentary flash of relief in Walif's face as he pushed himself as far back in that chair he'd been bound to as he could, clearly desperate to get away from the Dolls. But as much as he felt fear, they felt determination. Dedication. An almost robotic will to do what Pyg required of them. Which meant that what Diana had just done was nothing to them but a delay.

That was why they were already rising, and why Diana knew she couldn't just leave Walif out there among them on that chair. As soon as the lasso had looped back into her hand, she flung it out again, only this time not aiming for any of the Dolls. This time, it caught around Walif's shoulders. She knew this would hurt him – especially after his torture – and she regretted the necessity, but Wonder Woman then immediately pulled on the cord, hard. The momentum was immediate, forceful. Dragged purely by it alone and requiring neither strength nor balance, Walif was soon flying straight into Diana's arms, past the rising Dolls, as she in turn rose back to her feet.

She caught him with ease, hoping it would imbue some sense of hope into him. Instead, she immediately heard his sharp intake of breath, his latest show of fear. As she looked back behind her, she saw it was with good reason.

This place was no barracks, no armoury. Wonder Woman had destroyed Amara's handgun, and there was no others around. But what this place was was a surgery. A butcher's abattoir. There were knives and blades galore. And, with her first weapon gone and with Wonder Woman distracted by the Dolls, it seemed Amara had found one.

One that, even as Diana looked behind her, was plunging hard and fast towards Wonder Woman's jugular, ready to slit it wide. Ready to kill. Ready to leave Walif unprotected…

Walif held up in one hand, Diana had only one free. Her poise and position made things worse. In what time she had, there was limited movement she could make to stop her demise.

But she did it. One fist thrown level with her head, it put the bracelet in just enough of a position to cover her neck. To deflect the blade away with a riveting clang. But in her condition Amara was never going to stop at just the one attempt. As she pulled her deflected arm back under control, she was emotionlessly stabbing again, only this time lower, towards Diana's gut and pelvis. This time, Wonder Woman had to spin herself fast, in order to have any chance of deflecting the blow coming from behind. But in doing so, she had to drag Walif around with her.

And in turn, she almost played straight into Amara's hands. Almost too late did Wonder Woman realise the ploy. Almost too late did she notice the arc of Amara's stab wasn't actually going to impale her. It was instead going to impale _him_. Only at the last possible moment did she manage to revert her protective wrist back into the blade's path, a desperate flick of her muscles.

But while there was another clang, this one was much softer. A much less direct hit of metal on metal. This time, it was only a glancing blow. A fact that meant the balde could keep continuing forwards. Forwards into Walif…

His howl of pain was agony to Diana's ears. The only source of comfort was when she spotted the gash in his side and in his bicep. A gash that looked bloodied immediately, and extremely painful. But just a gash… The blade had been deflected enough the it missed his torso, his organs. That it shouldn't claim his life…

Small comforts. Important comforts. But a warning sign too close for comfort. Wonder Woman may have dragged Walif from the bulk of the Dolls, but until he was clear from all of them, he wasn't safe. And he had to be safe.

Diana reached out and grabbed at Amara's wrist with her free hand, the one bearing the hand bearing the knife. Immediately, she ripped it back, bending Amara's arm dangerously close to going directions it wasn't meant to go. But it wasn't to cause pain, it was to avoid it. To create an opening. All of the Dolls had crowded into this chamber, as if to trap her and Walif. But thanks to her actions with the lasso, Diana had already managed to make it so that Amara was the only Doll that stood between her and the room she had come through earlier. The room with the surgery table and the corpses. The horrifying room…But the room she knew was clear of imminent threats. Now she had Amara in her unbreakable grasp, Wonder Woman had made a clear route out of there. With another flick of her wrist, Diana once again flung out the lasso, only this time not to drag Walif in. Like a top, this time it sent him spinning away out of there. It was with a crash that he finally unfurled from the lasso as he hit that surgery table in the middle of the next room, awkwardly holding himself up on it for balance, but it was a crash that was a good sign. It meant she should now be able to get to work without having to worry as much about his safety.

And she got to it immediately. Giving Amara's wrist another twist, she send enough pain into her receptors that Amara's reflexes kicked in, her fingers opening wide. Even the Pyg couldn't remove all of those…or so Diana hoped. But he hadn't in Amara, and the next moment the knife was dropped clattering to the floor. Once again taking one of Amara's weapon's out of play, Wonder Woman immediately stamped on it, smashing her boot down into the metal and causing it to snap it a thousand pieces too.

"I don't want to hurt you Amara," Diana then finally managed to beg. Because she didn't. Not Amara. Not any of the Dolls. She would do what she had to do. But in her heart, Diana knew she that what she had to do was save them. Not just Walif. All of them. "Stop this! Let me help you!"

But Amara said nothing. She didn't even whimper with pity or howl with rage. Pyg seemed to have taken those from her too. All she did was try to resist. But even though she felt stronger than a starving, broken migrant snatched away by kidnappers should ever be close to being, she had nothing on Wonder Woman. Her efforts merely made her drop to her knees, merely brought her more pain than Wonder Woman ever wanted to bring her.

But Wonder Woman had no chance to feel pity of her own. It seemed Amara wanted to drop down. Because while the blade had shattered, some of the pieces were still large enough to grab clean hold of. And in turn, the fractures of the metal made those pieces sharper than ever before.

It left Wonder Woman no choice but to mercilessly hurl Amara back across the room before the serrated metal was plunged deep into her thigh.

It was a motion that meant Wonder Woman could finally look back towards the rest of the Dolls. As Amara's flying form careened through them, several were knocked back down to the deck. But the others… They were still coming. For her, and for the prize she guarded, the prize that lay beyond in the next room. They weren't all armed. It seemed clear that Pyg needed it to be Amara who struck Walif the fatal blow for his experiment. But they were all a part of the game, all enforced pawns in his diabolical scheme. And all intent on getting to Walif by any means necessary, including tearing through anything that stood in their way. From the blank looks in their eyes behind those bandages, Diana could see that all of them were even more lost to Pyg's machinations than Amara. She could see straight away that there was going to be no reasoning with them. She had no choice then.

"Have it your way," she growled under her breath as they kept slowly advancing like a plague, backing up slowly to stand right in the narrow doorway between them and Walif. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she then set herself for the ferocity of battle.

With that, the masses finally surged. Before she knew it they were all right on her. Flying fists, kicks, headbutts. Some wielding knives and cleavers. Some simply trying to use the distraction of the others to run straight on through.

But Wonder Woman was having none of it. She was an absolute whirlwind of motion. Grabbing anyone who dared try to get around her in the narrow point and hurling them back into the room. Deflecting every attempt to stab at her or hack her apart against her bracelets. The blunt attacks, some may have got through but without enough ferocity to do her any real damage. The others, she batted away with force. But all the time, she continued to hold back her own strength. She would fight, she would battle, she would not let them through. But she also would not break them.

But while holding back spoke volumes of her strength of character, it was also her weakness in the battle. Because as good as Wonder Woman was, holding back meant that those Dolls just kept coming. Every one of them. Scores of them. Constantly on her, constantly fighting her. Every deflected blow, every Doll hurled away, every time Wonder Woman pushed back, it was all temporary. Another attack was only fractions away. And by the laws of such constants, one of the Dolls strikes was eventually going to get through.

Such a rarity, but Wonder Woman felt her skin get pierced as one attack too many landed. It was minor, another strike that was just a cut rather than a fatality, but it was enough to create the opening. Her arm sliced open, there was a brief moment when Wonder Woman's guard lowered as she reflexively reacted. Needing whatever chance they could get, the Dolls weren't about to let their opening slide. Before Wonder Woman was back in control, all the Dolls were on her even more.

Grabbing at her, clutching her arms, pinning her down. As if all the Dolls at once were trying to drag her down. All of them, diving on top of her to take her out of play however they could. Scores of hands grabbing at her with enough force that even Wonder Woman was knocked off balance and down to the floor. As soon as she hit the deck, it felt like all of those Dolls were jumping atop her one by one, not only using their strength against her but also their collective weight as they all tried to grab at her arms, her legs, anything they could get hold of to pin her down. Almost all of them had even seemed to cast their blades aside.

Almost all, except the one. The one bandaged man who stepped around the crowd, cleaver still in hand. A cleaver he soon swung, aiming for the one spot on her not covered by the mass of his fellow Dolls; straight for her head. But even pinned, Wonder Woman didn't give up. She could still resist. For even as the blade came to slice her head in half, she snatched up with nothing but her determination and her teeth. Timing the bite to perfection and her jaws as mighty as the rest of her, not only did she manage to stop the blow, she once again sent a weapon shattering to pieces.

The unfortunate side affect there was that she had to quickly shake the pieces from her eyes as they scattered from such close range unimpeded. Once again, that mere moment was enough for events to take another turn. Because in the mass of the attack, there had been one of the Dolls who had stayed back, who hadn't gotten involved in the fight for ground. In the fight to get past Wonder Woman to Walif. But now that Diana was down, it was their time to move.

Even through all the other bodies, Diana felt the extra weight and force as she literally ran right over the piled people, bounding away and through the entrance way beyond. This was all about giving Amara the opportunity to kill Walif. Now as she advanced on him, still cowering in that next room against the surgical table, unable to run, Amara clearly thought she had it. From the floor, Wonder Woman could just twist enough to see Amara touch down beyond the threshold. Could see every step Amara took as she mercilessly closed in on the man who was her lover.

Could see as she passed by the discarded tray of operating equipment.

Could see as Amara picked up the scalpel.

Could see the fear spreading in Walif's eyes as he began to stammer futile pleas of mercy at her manipulated form.

And could foresee every action of what Amara was about to do…

There wasn't time to hold back anymore. There wasn't time to figure out another way. There wasn't time to worry about hurting the Dolls. They may be innocent at heart, but at hand they were anything but. And now the time for holding back had run out.

One of the Dolls atop her was right atop her, using his body to pin her torso. Thrusting with every sinew of her neck muscles, Wonder Woman crashed her forehead against his, a crack enhanced by the metal tiara she wore. For good measure, she then threw another headbutt, this time crashing into him with enough force that she saw a tooth fly from his head, even through the bandage wrapped around it. The Doll clearly felt it, physically knocked back. It was enough to get him fractionally off her. Between that and her new approach, it freed her enough that she managed to yank first one arm free, then the other, the act of which alone was another to toss another few Dolls aside. What came next took care of the rest.

For even as those Dolls moved to grab at her all over again, Wonder Woman was flinging her arms high and wide, hurling them into every Doll that they could reach to hit them hard. Then, with the grasp of the Dolls weakened, she thrust first her torso and her entire body up into the air. Literally. But Wonder Woman wasn't the only one left flying after her action. The Dolls were sent that way too. All of them. Every one that had dared grab her, be atop her. They were all thrown clear, the entire mass of them sent plunging across the room.

But Wonder Woman was touching down before any of them, despite gravity being on their side. Yet even before her boots once again hit the surface she was turned, once again facing only Amara and Walif. She was almost on him, ready to heartlessly stab him dead.

Walif had practically collapsed onto the surgery table, sinking as deep into it as he could, but Amara was right there. Her footsteps stopped. She was coldly looming over him, not saying a word as he sobbed. The scalpel was raised in her fist, ready to plunge into his skull…

Diana was out of time. Her choices were almost all gone. Desperately, she hurled the lasso with all of her might…

As it snared perfectly around Amara's wrist, tightening as much as it could without slicing her hand off, at first Wonder Woman couldn't tell if she had been too late. She couldn't see if a hair's breadth had saved him, or if the blade had pierced through his eye. But she also didn't stop to wonder. Heaving with gritted teeth against the other woman's frantic resistance, she slowly dragged back Amara's hand, scalpel and all. Slowly she pulled Amara back, to drag her clear away from Walif with the very weapon with which she had gone to kill him.

And only then did Wonder Woman feel the relief, even as she continued to have to fight Amara's attempts to struggle her way back to him. Only then did she manage to see past Amara that he was still alive. That the blade hadn't taken him. And only then, did she the look in Amara's face. The look of desperation. Almost of panic. For someone turned so unfeeling and callous, the threat of failing the Pyg clearly meant everything.

But the victory wasn't hers yet. Far from it. For even as she felt that relief, Wonder Woman heard the Doll leaping at her again from behind, the first of them to come back at her again. She certainly felt it as one landed on her shoulders, immediately clawing at her grip on the lasso. Instantly Wonder Woman swung her entire body round in a three-sixty degree arc, a motion resulting in dragging Amara ever closer by the shortening of the lasso and hurling her unwanted passenger back again like a discuss.

He had done her no damage, but it was the unwanted reminder of what was still behind her, enhanced by the fact that, due to her spin, Wonder Woman saw them all coming for her again. All the Dolls refusing to give up.

Thinking quickly, Diana hurriedly stepped beyond the threshold of the doorway. Before any of the Dolls could reach her, she not only slammed it shut behind her, but then immediately thrust her powerful, free hand against it. She was clutching at it as if her life depended on it, holding the thing too. It was a good job she was, for a moment later all the force of a dozen Dolls slammed against it, using all their weight to try to smash their way through to her, Amara and Walif. Anyone else and it may have been enough, but even with one hand Wonder Woman was able to forcibly hold them at bay.

Which meant that, at long last, she had her opening. Her focus was split, half her energy used to keep that door closed, but finally she had the chance to try and end this. She had been working to save Walif. Now was finally her chance to save Amara too. And not just for her friend. But what it could mean for all of them. Every last one of those innocent migrants that Pyg had decimated.

And then, eventually, to saving every one of them still languishing in those camps.

"Amara, please, listen to me," Diana said through the strain of both holding back that door and holding onto that lasso. She knew she could let neither go, just as she couldn't let these people go. "Please. Remember who you are! Remember what you told me in the refugee camp, Amara. Remember that Walif is the man you love. Remember! Remember your heart, your soul. Remember why you came here. No one can take that from you. No one can take away your heart. The Pyg has done something to your mind, but I refuse to believe he can take away your heart! Please Amara. Please… You told me you would do anything to help ease Walif's suffering. Help him now. Help him get you back. All you need to do is remember… Remember you love him!"

"No!" The word burst from Amara like a thunderbolt. A ferocity had suddenly crossed her eyes, the sinews leaping out in her neck and face. It seemed Pyg had done nothing to remove her anger, at least not fully. At least not when it came to his orders. "I serve Professor Pyg! He has freed me of the imperfections of love! I am perfect nowwwaaargh!"

Her finally word descended to a scream. Wonder Woman almost reacted before she spotted why. The lasso. It had started to glow.

Truth. That was what Amara needed. Pyg had manipulated her, he had operated on her, he had changed her. But at her core, none of that was who Amara really was, just what he had made her. This thing, this Doll in front of Diana, it wasn't Amara's true self. It wasn't her personal truth. It was a lie. And the lasso did not react well to lies.

"_NO!" _Amara's scream intensified as did the lasso's glow. It was burning her, Wonder Woman knew it. It was forcing her to see a truth in herself that the Pyg had tried to force her to never see again. It was giving her the kind of conflict that must wreak havoc on a mind. An indelible truth, a forceful contradiction. A need that goes against everything she was.

An immovable object. An unstoppable force.

But put together, one notion has to die.

Behind Wonder Woman, the door was creaking no end. The Dolls smashing into it, pushing, hacking, doing anything they could to try and get through. It was all leaving the barricade threatening to buckle and break from the insurmountable forces being applied to it from both sides. But Diana continued to hold on, refusing to let it go.

This was the answer. They were almost there. She just needed Amara to see it. To accept it.

"You're seeing the truth Amara!" Diana yelled out over Amara's ongoing screams of determined pain. "Accept it! Accept who you are! Accept the truth! Cast off what Pyg has done to you! _Remember who you are! Remember your heart!_"

"N…no…"

Barely a whimper. The force of her counter was weak this time, diminished. It was working. Her induced resistance to it was strong, but Wonder Woman could see it. She could see it in Amara's eyes, how she held herself. She could see it as Amara's grip on that scalpel finally weakened and it dropped harmlessly to the floor. She could see it as the lasso kept on glowing.

The truth was getting through to her. She was remembering.

"No!"

But maybe Wonder Woman was celebrating too soon. Barely had the scalpel hit the floor than a reinvigorated blast of defiance burst forth from Amara, a steel back in her eyes as they fixed firmly on Wonder Woman again. Yet what else was in there was what scared Diana more. For despite the steel, the doubt remained, the faint signs of returning warmth, compassion, love. Yet all of it was surrounded by fear, dismay. An overriding impression of failure.

And suddenly Diana understood. She didn't need to see the trigger movement of Amara slowly opening her jaw wide. She didn't need to see the fear, the breaking resistance, the sense of an unwanted ending. She had seen once before what happened to a Doll who had failed the Pyg…

The Doll in the camp.

The false tooth. The carbon nitrates.

The way the body of that Doll had literally and horrifically burned away from the inside before her very eyes…

Wonder Woman reacted the only way she could. It didn't matter that she knew it meant her all-important hold on that door would be broken, or that it would open the floodgates for those other Dolls to come running through. She couldn't let that happen again. Not to Amara, not to any of them.

And so, without any further hesitation yet still holding the lasso tight, Wonder Woman flung herself forwards across the room. Her body clattered into Amara's but she kept her control of the motion. As soon as she hit her, Diana had her hand clamping tightly on Amara's jaw, forcing it to stay open with all of her strength and might. By the time they were clattering into the table Walif still straddled, her other hand was already plunged into Amara's open mouth. It was drastic, it was desperate, but there was no other choice.

For by the time their motion had finally stopped, with just her bare hands and with a faint gush of blood, Wonder Woman ripped the false tooth clear out of Amara's head.

Immediately she tossed the tooth aside, wanting it and its toxins nowhere near her. It was rattling across the deck barely fractions after Amara's yelp of pain finally issued from her at the dentistry. But it was what followed the yelp that meant the most.

Because it was then that the lasso suddenly stopped glowing. It was then that it no longer needed to. It was then that Amara's screams stopped, that her resistance stopped.

It was then that the coldness finally left her. The need to obey the Pyg finally left her.

And it was then, as her truths finally formed their way back into her mind and her memories, that her eyes suddenly widened with pain and regret. It was then that, with a sharp intake of breath, she suddenly reached out for Walif's hand beside her.

Despite everything that Pyg had done to her, Amara Tesheme Etefu was back.

But while the moment was glorious and touching, and while she clearly wanted nothing more than to wrap herself in his arms, Diana saw Amara glance back towards her as she uncoiled her from the lasso with a flick of her wrist. And in that moment, she saw those eyes widen even further, only this time under a new emotion; horror. But Wonder Woman didn't need to look to see why. She knew what was coming.

The doors had burst open the moment that Wonder Woman had released her hold against it. All those remaining Dolls had immediately been pouring through. Diana may have saved one, but that meant nothing for all the others. In fact, if anything it would make them more intent for the kill. As soon as Wonder Woman had acted, though, it was always coming. There was only ever going to be the fraction of time needed to save Amara, nothing more.

Now, it was time to do it all over again. Only this time, the environment was on her side.

Without even looking, Wonder Woman through up a bracelet to deflect the hurled cleaver she knew had been sailing straight towards the back of her head harmlessly away. But in that same motion, she put herself into a spin. A spin towards the advancing horde.

But also a spin that gave her a weapon of her own. In getting Walif back into this room, she had been thinking of nothing but keeping him safe. Wonder Woman hadn't thought about any of its contents other than the fact the deadly Dolls weren't among them. Now, those contents she had seen early were well and truly catching her eyes. Particularly those gas tanks she had spotted earlier, carefully situated right beside the patient's bed. The bed she conveniently was stood right beside…

In the same motion as her spin, Wonder Woman instinctively grabbed one of those gas bottles, hurling it at the nearest batch of the surging horde. It was meant to hit them hard, to use its weight to send them falling, and to subsequently slow down all the Dolls behind them by getting in their way.

But Wonder Woman got more than she bargained for. Only when she'd already hurled the canister did she see that the frontrunning Doll among the frontrunners bore another of those cleavers. And as that canister came hurtling towards him, he raised it, as if the cutting motion cut bash it away. But instead, he only achieved one thing. It hacked a huge gash in the metal tank.

The weighty canister still smashed him hard in the midriff, sending him and those near him toppling like skittles, but now there was something else added to the mix. The gas that it held within, now all seeping out through the hole the front Doll had gorged in its top. The purplish cloud of vapour immediately bursting out like an explosion, throwing out almost of wall of substance in the middle of the room.

A wall of gas that indeed stopped all who got caught within it right in their tracks. Barely before any of them even had a chance to inhale it, all those frontrunning Dolls within the gas were staggering to a halt. They all looked like they were caught in a sudden stupor, like all energy had vanished from their bodies and they were now in a state of near drunkenness, near unconsciousness. What was more, behind them all the other Dolls were skidding to a halt, as if urgently avoiding entering the gas cloud at all costs. Barely moments later, all those Dolls within the cloud were not just staggering, they were collapsing to the floor, hard.

At first a sudden fear took over Diana. At first she became afraid of what it had actually been inside those canisters. At first she was petrified that it was the cyanide, and that she had just killed those altered migrants. Only a second later did rationality overcome paranoia. Only then did she twig that Pyg, in altering these people as he had, must know his way around chemicals. And anyone performing the surgeries he clearly did required an anaesthetic. Fast acting, easily administered, capable of affecting multiple targets at once. And capable of stunting the brain… A key feature he'd need. No, this gas was no poison. It was Pyg's concoction. It was his anaesthetic…

But that was further reason why those rear Dolls were never going to hold back long. It seemed the gas was almost as fast to dissipate as it was acting, the cloud of purple haze already starting to fade. Wonder Woman only had time to cast a glance back over her shoulder at Amara and Walif as it did so, once again seeing the looks in their faces. The panic, the fear. The hope. The _love_.

She had to protect them.

Turning back, Wonder Woman was on the balls of her feet. The gas was still fading, but she wasn't about to sit back and wait. She wasn't about to wait around for the Dolls to attack. She wasn't about to let them set one foot closer to the couple. It was time to go on the offensive. She just had to hold her breath first.

Her leap was true. Lungs closed off to the gas with more effectiveness than the Dolls would manage, Wonder Woman hurled herself clean through its dissipating vapours without breathing it in. As she hurtled into them, she could tell it caught the Dolls off guard, that they thought no one could yet cross that line. But Pyg's minions had reckoned without her.

Landing, she was immediately taking the Dolls down, sending those she hit on impact flying back once again. As for the others, those nearest her were an ease. Flicked punches, leg swipes, simple throws, they were all knocked back to give Wonder Woman the room to manoeuvre. One simple raised fist even took down the one that came charging straight in for her again.

But all the time, Wonder Woman's urge was to reach out for the lasso. The urge was to wrap these Dolls in its binds, to expose them all to the truth. To save them as she could Amara. Yet no matter how easy she found it to take them down as individuals, there were simply too many of them. By the time she had one saved, the others would all be on her, tearing her apart. And her chances of isolating them all as she had Amara were slim to none…

Somehow…_Somehow_ she had to save them. She couldn't do it as she had Amara, but there _had_ to be a way. The lasso had shown her the path, she just had to figure out how to open the gate…To find someway to save them _all_.

But barely had that last thought crossed her mind than, mid-fight, she felt the lasso on her hip start to glow again. Throwing the latest Doll off of her, though, Wonder Woman then noticed it was more than that. It wasn't just glowing, it was _growing_. Literally growing longer before her very eyes.

"_Because you stole your armour and lasso you were never told of all the powers they possess. When the time comes you'll know everything you need to know_."

Her mother had said those words to her once. Well it seemed like know was the latest of those times. It seemed she had just learnt another of those powers, just in the nick of time. As if the lasso itself knew exactly what she needed, and was making it happen…

A chain. With the extended lasso, she could make a chain. All of them. All of the Dolls bound in the lasso. All at once. She could make them _all_ see the truth. Make them all remember who they really were, that they weren't Pyg's slaves.

With the longer lasso, numbers were no longer a factor. She had her chance. She would have to be fast. She would have to ensure to take their cyanide teeth as she went. But she could do it.

She _would_ do it. She would save them all. All of these innocents abducted from their lives when they were doing nothing but searching for a new home, for the chance to escape torment.

She would save them _all_.

The smile creased Wonder Woman's lips at the thought, even as the Dolls were coming for her all over again. The first she sent clean over her shoulder. By the time the second reached her, the lasso was off her hip. As he through his punch, she calmly stepped out of its way, holding the first noose up ready for him to stick his arm clean through. As the noose then bound tight, Wonder Woman spun her way behind him, reaching into his mouth as she had Amara to tear out his false tooth. Then, with a rip of her arm, she sent that Doll spinning out of the way.

"Gotcha," she muttered to herself, now convinced more than ever. This would work. She could do it.

And with that thought in might, she dove back into the crowd of onrushing Dolls. Time to live up to her title.

It was time to save them all.


	8. 6,3: Valentin's Day, Part III

**6.3: Valentin's Day, Part III**

None of them even seemed able to stand. None of the physical injuries they'd received were serious enough to still keep them down, yet down they all stayed. Curled, splayed out, on their haunches. _Haunted._

A huge weight was on all of them. An emotional weight. A weight of guilt.

For they all knew what they had done. What they had been made to do, after what had been done to their minds.

But now…Now the lasso had stopped glowing. Now… Their minds were free. They could all remember who they truly were, and what they had subsequently done. They could all picture vividly the horrors they had done to their own kind, their fellow refugees, or the horrors they had stood by and silently witnessed.

Horrors so extreme that none of them could even stand.

In the middle of all of them, the huge wash of sorrow swept over Diana as she gently wound the lasso back into place on her hip, its engorged size shrinking back to normal with every rotation. Looking among the masses, she felt their pain, an empathic tear even forming at the corner of her eye. No one deserved this. These people deserved so much better than this. They'd come here looking for _hope_…

And even though she had freed them, that looked so very far away. It would take more than a magic lasso to really save these people's minds. It had the power to free them, but unlike Amara, they didn't have the luxury of brevity. She had only been under Pyg's hold minutes, hours at most. Some of the others could have been under for weeks.

From the moment she had set foot in the Cuore dei Beati Antenati camp, Diana had known the Nairomian's needed help. But she had thought that meant social aid, food, water, shelter. Now it also meant psychological, physical. Most still wore the bandages from Pyg's surgeries, though while others had torn them free, doctors would have to make sure any harmful effects of his alterations were undone. At that was only at the surface. From how broken they all were, enlisting the mental health professionals was paramount.

Diana would see to it. She would arrange it all. One way or another. Once these people were safe, she would make the UN get them whatever help they needed.

_Somehow_…

As she finally put the last strands of the lasso back in its place, Diana finally turned away from the masses spread across the chamber, instead facing back behind her, back towards that surgical table. The only other two lucid beings remained on it, courtesy of Walif's limited abilities to move. An uncomfortable thought, considering Diana could well remember what was under those tarpaulin's mere metres away as if the sheets weren't even there, but she didn't need to stress that fact to the pair. They needed the calm. She couldn't take that from them now, not when they both came so close to the brink.

Still, Diana couldn't help but admire them. After all that they'd just been through in such a small space of time, to be so calm was remarkable. Despite all the trials they would no doubt still have to face, to return to such a near sense of normality spoke volumes of both of them. To be so human. To be so in control. And to be so in love. They were leant in close to each other, foreheads touching, Amara's hand gently caressing Walif's cheek as for a long moment there was clearly nothing for either of them but each other. Only when they heard Diana's soft foot steps as she moved closer to them did they finally look up, yet still staying in each other's arms.

"Are they going to be okay?" Walif asked, voice calm, croaky from it all yet still soft, delicate. As he said it, he gestured out to all the freed Dolls with his chin. "Is it over?"

"They'll need time to heal," Diana answered truthfully. "They've been through a lot, just as you both have. Over is not the word I would choose. But on the right path. And speaking of which, how do you feel?"

Diana had turned to explicitly face Amara with that last point. Yes, she held concerns for Walif's health too, but Amara's state could impact so many. If she was already feeling as restored and free as she now appeared, then it meant more hope for the rest. It might mean their path was an easier one to tread.

"Grateful." Amara had taken a moment to answer, but when she did, it was with a voice as gentle as Walif's. Her eyes were also wide, full of emotion and showing her truths. "I'm so grateful to you Diana. I'm so grateful that you freed me… That you freed all of us. No one deserves that fate. To be trapped in your own mind. To have no feeling but to obey. To be without love…To almost…To try to… To…"

She broke off. The words stuttering, the look on her face slowly dropping away until her mouth could only hang aghast, eyes staring off even wider into nothingness. A fear had struck her, leaving Wonder Woman immediately spinning to look around her in case she had missed one of the Dolls. But that wasn't the case, a fact proven as Amara suddenly shouted out again a second later, reaching out to clutch Diana's arm as she did so.

"Pyg! Diana, he's still out there!" she called out in a sense of panic evident throughout her being. "I remember. He was called away. He left us to…_complete his desires_ here. But he was called away! Some sort of accident. Accidents… He said it was an opportunity. The chance for more tests. Maybe even… Diana, you have to stop him! He's been developing a new gas capable of removing the emotions of people almost instantaneously, of taking their love! And he might be about to use it, to test it on all those people! The Ospedale di Sfortunato. Diana, you have to save them too! We have to warn them!"

She knew this wasn't over. She hadn't vocalised it to the pair of them, but it hadn't only been the recovery of the Dolls that Diana had been thinking about when she'd said that. But a gas to have an instant effect on the brain, to immediately drain a person of their compassion and emotion and love…? That wasn't a thought she wanted to have. But then again, she'd already seen Pyg's chemical skills in action with his anaesthetic, still sat in the tanks right beside her…

Wonder Woman had no doubt Amara was telling her the truth. She had no doubt the danger was real.

"Is there a phone? We can call ahead, have them get people clear before you can arrive."

Walif was quick thinking, still showing his remarkable calm. A valid point. Not normally one Wonder Woman had to think about. But even for her it would take a few minutes to get to this hospital. She wasn't Wally after all. And Walif was right – if Pyg was going to unleash this gas, every second counted.

At first, Wonder Woman instinctively moved her hand towards her League communicator. Her go to system, she knew the Watchtower and those on monitor duty would easily be able to connect her through. But as she was going through the motion, she suddenly remembered the device, the spare phone that Lois had given her back at the docks. Struck by inspiration, she quickly drew out the device from where it nestled.

And only then did she finally see the message Lois had sent to her minutes earlier. The message about a Doctor Valentin. About the very hospital Amara had just warned was in danger.

And about how Lois was going in…

Oh, Hera… Things just got even worse.

"Diana, what is it? What's wrong?"

Her face must have given her away as she stared at Lois' message on the phone screen. The couple were both staring at her now, worried at her look of fear. Walif had asked what was on both of their minds.

"My friend, Lois Lane. She's at the hospital," Wonder Woman quickly responded, almost having to say it aloud to believe it. She should have known Lois wouldn't let things lie. She should have known she would keep digging, that she would invariably find something. She should have known she would get in trouble. Hera, if she was in _big _trouble. "She was helping me try to find you, to try and stop the Pyg…"

"Go."

It was Amara this time, speaking almost commandingly that Diana had to look up at her to make sure she'd heard it correctly.

"Go," Amara repeated. It was clear what she was thinking. She was remembering what had happened to her. She was fearing what could happen to them. To Lois. And she was aware that Wonder Woman was these people's best – if not only – chance. "Go now. Go save your friend. Go save her before Pyg can do to her what he did to me. Go. Please. Give me the phone. We'll try to get through to the hospital to warn them. But you go. Before its too late."

Wonder Woman hesitated though, glancing around her once again at the former Dolls still moping all around her. It felt wrong to just leave these people here. It felt wrong to leave Amara and Walif alone here with these broken people. It felt wrong to abandon them. But it felt more wrong to summon the local authorities to be the ones to protect them, after they had failed these people so much to bring them here…

"I'll contact the Justice League. I'll make sure they send members down here straight away to see that you're safe, to keep you away from the corrupt. Are going to be alright until they can get here?"

"We will be," Walif was quick to answer. "Thanks to you, we will be."

"Save them, Diana," Amara added, the fear still prevalent in her eyes, the empathy. "Save them…"

Lois… An entire hospital full of people… There was no doubt Wonder Woman was going to go try. But as to how she would manage it…

She didn't know why, whether it instinct, intuition, divine intuition or plain dumb luck, but suddenly Wonder Woman's eyes once again drifted to those anaesthetic tanks stacked up beside the surgery table on which Walif still sat. And suddenly, it was definitely inspiration that she was feeling. The faint curl even managed to touch her lips again as she looked back at Amara and Walif.

"Don't worry," she declared. "I intend to."

* * *

She was on the balls of her feet as soon as she felt the momentum come to jarring stop. The moment the doors opened wide with a ping, she was immediately falling out into the corridors beyond. Pyg would be coming for her, she knew that. The escape in the lift had bought her a brief bit of time, but nothing more. Now she had to find some way to use it. To warn the people in this hospital of the living hell Pyg was about to unleash down upon them.

As soon as she was in that corridor, Lois Lane saw what she thought was her chance. Simplistic, cliched and uninspired it may be, but the fire alarm could give her everything she needed with just a single hit. Still clutching at the gash in her side with one hand, Lois was instantly stumbling her way towards the red box on the wall as fast as her legs would take her. She practically fell into it as soon as she arrived, heaving all her body weight towards it. With the palm of her hand, she smashed the glass screen that was the only thing in her way…

Only for nothing to happen.

There was no wailing sound, no warnings, no alarms. Nothing. Frantically, Lois tried to press the alarm trigger again and again. Yet still all to no avail. Panicking, she quickly looked around, as if she was actually going to see a loose wire hanging from the ceiling that she could simply plug back in. But there was nothing. Nothing but the failure of her sudden and futile hope. There was nothing else for it. Her idea had failed. She had to stay away from Pyg long enough to come up with a new one. She had to keep running.

She had no idea where to go. Even looking up and down the corridor told her nothing. In the end, she had to guess, and hope that she got lucky. But when she did chose, she only made it a few steps before she was skidding to a halt all over again, so rapidly she almost fell in the process.

She heard him first, even over the sound of her own footsteps. The limited height of the building, his foreknowledge of it, the delay with the fire alarm… But even then she'd thought she'd have more time than this. Yet there was no mistaking it, especially as he burst through the door from the stairwell up ahead at the far end of the corridor.

"_Lois Lane!"_ Pyg howled with rage as he stood there, body visibly puffing from the exertion of getting there fast, broken cleaver still clutched tight in his hand, sharper than ever after its run in with the lift doors had snapped its edge. Anger clearly welled within him, to the point where it was clear he would not be willing to play this game too much longer. It was a good job, then, that Lois at least had some distance still between the two of them to keep her from his clutches. "I've had a long time to make these corridors my own, Lois! I've had a long time to arrange to make this space my own, to adapt it for my plans. You cannot escape! You _cannot stop Perfection!"_

Yes she could… Yes she _could_! She just had to know _how_… She had to stay away from him.

She had to keep on running.

She span, gracelessly in her pain and fear, but she span and she kept on running. Away from the Pyg as fast as she could. She didn't care anymore what lay ahead of her. For now, it didn't matter. She just had to get away.

But Pyg, of course, had other ideas. His scream of rage burst forth behind her as soon as she began to move. The thud of his weighty footsteps boomed down the corridor behind her, his panting breath, but Lois didn't look back. Looking back would slow her down. She couldn't afford to be slow.

And she also couldn't afford to be dead.

Lois didn't know how far she'd gone, how long she'd been running again. Her mind was to ablaze to have truly realised it. But thankfully, she was aware enough to hear his grunt, to almost feel the air splitting behind her as it was cut apart. It was almost inhuman to register it, yet somehow she did. Somehow, she knew it was coming just in time.

Just in time to hurl herself down to the ground, mere moments before the cleaver came crashing through the air once more.

Once more, she was literally a hairs breadth away from Pyg taking her head clean off.

Lois hit the ground hard. Her momentum was still strong enough that she kept on skidding across the ground, feeling the rattle in her joints and the sharpness in her wounds. But she only winced for a moment. That was all she'd allow herself. All she could allow herself. All she could spare before forcing her eyes open again, to stare back down to the oncoming Pyg. He'd hurled his cleaver, now once again embedded in a distant wall. But he was still coming, striding forward like a remorseless killing machine. Like a man already devoid of love…

And a man getting ever closer to her… Too close!

The nearest door caught her eye, an idea striking hold. The crisis had thankfully passed, but at the time there had been plenty of panic. The highly infectious, potentially deadly disease sweeping through the West of Africa, making the headlines day after day after day. Making people afraid, nervous. And if the current episode showed anything, it was that migrants from exactly those kind of areas could pass to these shores. The locals clearly took those fears to heart when constructing this hospital, yet now the virus couldn't be presented, not with the entire wing deserved for the renovations. She might not be able to read the Italian, but she recognised the universal symbol on the wall beside the doorway well enough to come up with a new plan. After all, what she needed most was not space, but time. She wasn't coming up with a new idea yet. If she could at least delay Pyg long enough for Wonder Woman to finally pick up her message…

Quarantine. A place designed to be sealed, to not let people in. A place that would be on its own ventilation systems, separate from the rest of the hospital. A place where she might just her a chance…

And from where she lay on the floor, despite the intense risks, it was the only chance she had.

Pyg was only a few metres away from her as Lois scrambled up from the floor, leaving a bloodied handprint in her wake. Immediately, she hurled herself for the opening. As soon as she passed through, she saw that the builders of this hospital had taken their concerns over the virus seriously.

The room was split in two, a large glass screen running clean down the middle as a divide. On the far side, the patients bed, and all the material that may be required. On the side of the entrance, a whole array of monitoring equipment, camera feeds, even what looked like TVs.

But all Lois really cared about were those doors. The first half of the room, it was effectively an airlock, the means with which they could keep the air beyond clean and clear. To entranceway and the door built in the glass screen, both had seals. Very heavy, _near unbreakable _looking seals.

Lois needed time, not space… She would be trapped, but Pyg would also be trapped outside…

She only hesitated enough to take stock of her surroundings and make her plan firmer. The fire extinguisher by the door was quickly in her hand, the first heavy tool she could get her hands on. With all the strength she could muster, she slammed it into the glass screen. Or more accurately, straight into the control panel built into its outer side.

Sparks were immediately flying, but once again Lois barely had the chance to register them. The heavy breathing was starting to resound around the place again, almost like Darth Vader himself was closing in on her. Pyg was coming, but Lois wasn't going to let him take her, not know. Which was why she hurled the extinguisher on the spin with as much force as she could, right for that open outer doorway.

She saw Pyg emerge into view a mere fraction before the extinguisher went smashing through, but her aim was off. Its flat base caught the frame of the door, sending the weighty lump of metal and carbonised oxygen clattering to the deck. The delay was enough to allow Pyg to leap back out of the way, to avoid it smashing into his shins. To allow him to dodge the attack and to then keep on coming.

But in turn, that delayed the Pyg, and that was all Lois had needed. It was all she needed to dive through the open door in the glass screen. And, with the only working control panel now the one inside the second chamber, to slam the button hard the seal the place off.

"_No!" _Pyg unleashed the twisted scream as he surged forward as fast as he could, watching the thick, glass door sliding shut. He practically threw himself for it, all of his weight hurled onwards to get through before it sealed. Lois couldn't help but leap back out of reflex, slamming herself against the empty hospital bed behind her and sending the whole thing crashing over to the floor, tripping herself over it too.

As her back smashed down to the floor, she once again had to cast off the wince to quickly look up again. To quickly look for Pyg again. But this time…This time it was to see good news.

This time it was to see that door nestling firmly closed in its frame. To seal the second quarantine chamber seal itself off with her trapped inside.

And to see Pyg slamming face first against the barricade now firmly in his path.

She'd done it. She'd made it. With that thought, her breath finally started to slow, even Lois herself not having realised how much she had been panting, how quickly her heart had been pounding. She even couldn't hold back the faint twist of a smile that had come to her lips.

But, a moment later, she wished that she had held back. Because then, she saw that this was far from a time to smile.

It didn't take Pyg long to regain his composure. Slamming headfirst into the glass had clearly disoriented him. It had sent his mask askew. But soon, his was setting the pigs head straight again. Soon he was casting off the pain. And soon, he was ready to cast it back onto others.

Lois' smile faded as she watched Pyg take a step back away from the door, as she saw him look at the broken control panel on his side of the chambers, as she saw him examine the reinforced glass. The next moment, she practically leapt out of her skin as the clang resounded, as Pyg redrew the cleaver she hadn't realised he had retrieved and slammed it hard against the glass. The same for the second time, and the third, and the fourth. For every time Pyg smashed the metal hard against the reverberating glass. Each time, Lois felt sure she was going to watch it break. Each time, her fear almost got the best of her as she still lay there atop the toppled gurney. It was designed to stop the passage of microscopic disease, not this assault. But each time, the glass just about held firm. Somehow…

With a howl of rage, Pyg finally stopped, catching himself mid-air as he almost smashed the cleaver down a latest time. Still howling, he clearly had to vent somehow. Spinning, he instead hurled the cleaver the opposite way with all of his might. Now the sparks really flew as it shattered through one of the various screens across the way, leaving Pyg stood, ventilating, back to Lois as fury still flowed through him.

As the moment dragged on, Lois finally mastered her fear enough to awkwardly drag herself up from the floor. Once again, the first thing she had to do was regain her own breath and composure. But as she did so, Pyg was clearly doing the same. Mastering his rage again, Lois watched as Pyg slowly spun to face her. But even though he was no longer howling with fury, the way he held himself was now somehow even more formidable, and even more terrifying.

"It is of no matter," he calmly said, Lois able to make out every word. There must have been some kind of intercom system between the rooms. "You have only served to contain yourself within my realm. You have done nothing to stand in my way. And you cannot stay in there forever. But in the meantime… While you are beyond my reach… I can now proceed exactly as I had planned before your…_interruption_."

"No…" Lois breathed, quiet at first before finding her voice again. "No, you can't…!"

But she barely had time to say anything. Pyg wouldn't let her. This wasn't a man that could be reasoned with, that much was clear.

"Oh, but I _can_!" he forcefully cut across her. "All the pieces are already in place, all except you. The canisters of my gas, the gas that can free people of the imperfection that is love and compassion; they are already spread through the ventilation systems of this hospital, my position here allowing me access to everything – and _everyone _– I could need to make it happen. Disguised as harmless oxygen tanks, no one is any the wiser. No one could be, until its too late. And now… Now its too late, Lois Lane. Now, its time to make these people perfect."

The screen, the glass, the door. It had kept Lois safe, protected her, but it also left her helpless. It meant that there was absolutely nothing that she could do, other than to continue to stammer at Pyg, to futilely beg him to stop. But he did not stop. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his white coat. Lois almost recoiled as he pulled it out, but it wasn't a weapon, not directly. It was simply a smartphone. A phone which he immediately held up to show her, to make sure that she could see. Then, with his own wicked grin, he began to take a step back.

The screen he'd hit with the cleaver was still sparking. Nonchalantly, Pyg pulled out the blade, but it wasn't to use it. He casually set it aside on the worktops beside him. Instead, he moved to activate all of those screens. Lois couldn't make out exactly what he was doing, but she could see it a moment later.

Pyg had indeed turned this empty wing of the hospital into his own domain. Those screens were clearly intended for both medicinal purposes and for the entertainment of any patients locked int his chamber. Now Pyg had turned them into a bank of monitors, showing the CCTV feed from throughout the hospital. The main reception, full of the concerned and those with wounds need less severe. The cubicles, where Lois had seen the two Nairomians Pyg had already gassed. The emergency room, where even now doctors and nurses were working so hard to save the victims of the sinking ship and the burning fire.

And of the view of the air vents, seemingly harmless if Lois didn't know what was really going on. The air vents that moved the air through the whole building. Everywhere, but for the seclusion of the quarantine zones, safely on a separate system. Everywhere. Meaning everyone but Lois was within their reach.

Was within the reach of the canisters Lois could clearly see within those vents.

"No…" she moaned simply again as Pyg continued to smile wickedly out at her, that phone still clutched victoriously in his hand, finger hovering menacingly over its touchscreen. It didn't take a genius to realise what it was the signal on Pyg's phone connected to. But she didn't need Pyg's reaction to know how futile the word continued to be. It was too late. It was already too late. All her efforts, all her plays for time. She had saved herself, but she hadn't managed to save them…

All sorts of thoughts already swam through her mind. Of the people in this building, the doctors and nurses, the staff and the patients. All of them innocent. All of them free to love. All of them about to suffer a fate Lois found beyond maniacal.

And selfishly, she couldn't help but think of the red 'S' emblazoned across his chest, or of those nerdy glasses behind which he hid. Superman, Clark, the one she loved. A love like that which these people were about to lose…

Pyg's response was simplistic too, straight to the point. Said with gusto, showing clearly how exhilarating this was to him. This was clearly the moment he'd been waiting for. The day he was dreaming of. This was his day.

"Perfection."

To him, this was _Valentin's Day_.

And then he hit the button.

And barely a second later, Lois saw it on those screens. She saw as the canisters opened. As the gas within began to seep into the air. And as the vents began to spread it around the whole hospital.

She saw as the gas that stole people's love began to take them all.

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**Only took me posting it in three parts over about five weeks to do it, but there you all have it! Chapter 6 is finally done and dusted. Yes, I mean it. Next time it will finally be Chapter 7!**_

_**And in it, there's a whole lot of people that are gonna need some saving...**_


	9. 7,1: But Strong In Will

**7.1: But Strong In Will…**

The gas, it didn't stop there. Her section may have been sealed but the antechamber was still exposed, open to the air coursing through the building. The air, and now the gas. She could see its coloured hue beginning to wind its way into the room, like winding roots spreading deep into the soil, entrenching itself in every corner it could reach. Soon, the whole antechamber was being tinted in its horror.

And stood right in the middle of it all, the Pyg was practically dancing in it. Arms stretched out wide, head thrown back, a malevolent smile on his twisted face. His whole body coursed as if the gas was his very lifeblood. He revelled in it, swayed as the gas flowed, in his element.

And completely unaffected by it. Because his own love for that moment was shining through, plain as day.

But before Lois could even contemplate that being a beacon of hope for everyone else confined in the walls of the hospital, Pyg snatched away her chance for it.

"Perfection…!" Pyg exhaled to the heavens in almost orgasmic jubilation, smile broad, fists clenching in front of him as if to literally grab hold of the moment. Of the gas. "This is _perfection!_ Ms. Lane, don't you see! Soon they will all be perfect! Or one step nearer at least. Even as we speak these people are being freed from the shackles of love! They will be unburdened, unlocked. They will be _better_. Because of me! They will be more like me. I have already perfected my own mind, Ms Lane. I am immune to the gas as there is nothing to fix. I have already seen to that. But these people… These people out here. I have saved them. I have taken them towards perfection. And all they had to do was _breathe_!"

It was almost sickening. In fact, Lois felt the churning sensations deep in her gut. But luckily, her mind stayed sharp, her own determination unwavering.

"No… No. If this gas doesn't affect you, then that means its not infallible. It implies it can be overcome. They'll find a way to stop it. They'll find a way to stop _you_. You're a sociopath Valentin. They won't let you get away this. They'll undo everything you've done!"

"But that is where you are _dead wrong_!" Pyg's joyfulness was gone in an instant, as if his own emotions were at the control of a switch. Rather than a gas… Now he was pure rage again. And now, he was stepping back over towards those monitors. Clearly, he wanted her to see. To see the same CCTV feed he had just shown her moments ago. And to see the change in all those people… "Take a look Ms Lane. Take a long, hard look. At all of them. At their inability to escape. And at their inability to stop the change. Take a look at their lovelessness!"

But Lois didn't want to look. She could picture it already. She didn't want to have to see it too, not to make the fears real. Not until she could come up with something, anything to give the situation hope again. But still, even keeping her eyes locked on Pyg, she saw enough out of her eye corners to know her mind had been right in how it filled in the blanks.

The gas had indeed spread everywhere, its coloured hue apparent on all the feeds. And behind it, all the people where still in place. Some had clearly tried to get away from it only to not make it very far. Others, due to the situations in this place, had had no chance to begin with. They had all breathed it in. They were all infected.

And its effects were already in action. The love gone. And with it, the compassion, the care.

Doctor's suddenly devoid of the drive to treat patients, now left frozen and lethargic and uncaring.

Patients abandoned in the cubicles…

Lacking the empathy, arguments already beginning out of selfish need for treatment, regardless of urgency…

Fights starting to break out in reception.

People starting to code in the emergency room, in the middle of surgery, as Doctor's stood uselessly by…

People starting to die. Because of Pyg. Because of his _insanity!_

"Look at them, Ms Lane!" Pyg bellowed at her again. "Look at what they are becoming! Look at their lack of _love_! What I have done to them, it has most _definitely _worked. There is nothing _anyone _can do to stop this! I have _already succeeded_!"

"Look at them yourself!" Lois couldn't help it. The words were barking out of her due to her horror, her fear. "Look what you've done! They're dying out there! They're…"

"Unguided!" Pyg quickly cut across her. "It doesn't have to be this way for beings so perfected. My Dolls already prove this. Yes, without me, without my leadership and guidance and command to replace their love, then these souls will only give in to their anger, to their hate and their fear and their greed. Their other base emotions, their other great motivators, those will take over. And those feelings will make them destroy themselves. This entire hospital will turn to riot. One that I could stop if I went out there.

"But I will not. I will _not_, Ms Lane! I will not take this away. Because the riot will be the _proof_! It will be the final proof that these people are free of their love. It will show the world that I, Professor Pyg, can free them! That I can lead them to perfection! And it will be the cleansing act I need to remove these test subjects, and allow me to move on to the next."

That churning sensation in her stomach was a definite now. Pyg wasn't satisfied with just what he'd done. He wasn't satisfied with just the thought of doing it to many others too. Now he wanted to kill all those people as well… To make them kill each other…

"You're a monster…" Lois breathed. "This isn't perfection… This is _insanity_!"

"No, Ms. Lane, this is progress!" Pyg snarled ferociously back. "Progress only the blind wouldn't see! And blindness is an imperfection that must be stamped out. I grow tired of your distractions too. Now, time is with us as we await the final stages of the gases progress. Time for your feeble flight to end. But don't worry, Ms Lane. I have no desire for you to become another of my test subjects any more."

He broke off for a second, turned behind him to the broken, still sparking screen he'd already destroyed. To the cleaver still embedded within it. The cleaver he pulled clear and into his grasp. The weapon he'd been threatening her with all along. And, as he turned back to face her, the weapon he most definitely was threatening her with again.

"That glass screen has protected you til now, Lois. But how long before you think it will break?"

With that, words were done. With that, Pyg advanced with all his weight and ferocity. Just as before, all Lois could do was step back, as if it would actually help her.

It seemed nothing could now. Not as, with a howl of effort and rage, Pyg began to unleash all his might against the glass, slamming the cleaver down into it. Again, and again, and again.

Glass that, before Lois' eyes, was finally starting to crack…

* * *

The hospital wasn't far from his lair. László Valentin, the Pyg, he would never base himself too far from the opportunity he would have seen. Not with his apparent insatiable desire for more. To ruin more innocent lives in his mad quest for betterment… But at least it meant that, once again, her flight through the skies didn't take too long.

Yet as even before she began to descend from the heights of the air, Wonder Woman could see the commotion that lay ahead of her. The flashing blue lights, the sires of the gathered emergency vehicles. The crowds, gathered around the firm cordon that had been established. The empty space between it and the hospital where no-one dared enter. Even from up there, she could sense the panic in those people. As she got closer, as she could see more, the feeling only got stronger.

This wasn't good. She could guess, but she had to find out what had happened. And then she had to stop it.

Picking them out as soon as she was close enough, Wonder Woman chose carefully where to land. She made sure they saw her coming too. There were plenty of police around the scene, all manner of vehicles and personnel and equipment and barricades. Most of the officer were decked out in full riot gear, those closest to the building keeping the civilians at bay even wearing gas masks. Some were even armed. But the one that Wonder Woman aimed for was towards the rear, stood with fellow officers around the bonnet of an armed response van, pointing away at what appeared to be the map of the hospital spread out atop it. This seemed to be the man that was in charge of the scene. He'd therefore be the one with the most answers, and the one who could most help her.

As she drew near, it was the other officer was the one to see her. Almost unable to believe his eyes, he merely slapped his commander on the shoulder, distracting him from the map he was engrossed in to point behind him and make him look up. When he did, Wonder Woman found herself face to face with an officious pair of eyes. They didn't seem overly pleasant, but at least she also immediately read they were moral. It gave her no reason not to trust him.

"Officer, what is happening here? How can I help?" she immediately spoke to him even as she hovered the final centimetres down to the ground just before him. When she had finally stopped, she set down the tanks of anaesthetic she had carried all the way from the makeshift surgery, still with the gut feel that she had been right to bring them. At first the officer gave them a confused glance, an oddity to bring to the scene without knowing what Diana knew. Then he took a moment to look her up and down before answering, as if he too could hardly believe he was seeing her there.

"Wonder Woman… I'd heard you were in the area. Fazio Marsiglia, _Vice Questore aggiunto_. Since you're here… A chemical agent was released inside the hospital in the last minutes. We haven't yet been able to ascertain what it is, nor has anyone come forward with any demands or to claim responsibility. Until we know what we're dealing with, we're keeping a clear radius from the building, no one in or out. If this is a terrorist incident, we aren't risking contagion. We've got a lot of concerned people out here to hold back, but so far, none of those inside have tried to get out. Instead they seem intent on tearing each other apart. Whatever this agent is, its driving them crazy in there."

A chemical agent… Wonder Woman quickly looked up. She couldn't see much inside, but the entrance to the building was lit up ahead of her. The doors had been sealed, but the glass panelling meant she could still see inside. She could see the gas that seemed to linger all through the air in there. And she could see the people, those in the reception area.

And then she could really understand the sense of fear in the area. For as Marsiglia had said, those people in there were tearing each apart. Pandemonium, it was like a full riot had broken out in there. Barbaric assaults on one another. They were killing each other… Or at least they would be soon, if no one stopped this.

But she also understood more than that, more than anyone else standing there beside her could know. She knew who was behind this. She knew what this was. This was the Pyg. And that gas, that was his weapon. His means of destroying love.

But Wonder Woman had already discovered that whatever Pyg had done, it couldn't dispel the truth of the heart.

And it couldn't be allowed to go unchecked. Not when she had seen first-hand exactly what the infected would otherwise be willing to do…

"We can't wait," Wonder Woman firmly stated, turning back to the officer. "Those people in there, the patients that need care. We delay, they suffer."

"I'm not sending my guys in there to be infected too!" Marsiglia didn't delay in snapping back at her. It didn't matter that she was a superhero with the strength to crush him like a bug, he was right up in her face to shout it. Passion strong, Wonder Woman could at least respect his desire to protect his own, even if she saw t as a dereliction of duty. "Not until we get the go ahead that we can enter safely! Not with what we're seeing!"

"Maybe not," Diana stared him down. As she did so, she was already pulling the lasso of truth from her hip once more, only this time it wasn't intended for anyone else. Instead, she was wrapping it tight around her own forearm. It was her lifeline. It would be her gasmask. She was going in. "But I'm not one of your officers."

Now Marsiglia was looking at her in an entirely new way. Now he was looking at her like she was crazy. But, at least, he also no longer looked like he was resistant.

"If you're fool enough to go in there with what this stuff is doing to people…" he uttered to himself. "If you can assure me this chemical agent is going to drive you crazy… We can't have a psychotic superhero ripping through the town. If you can assure me, then you can be our guest. We've got the front doors on lockdown. We can open them up just enough for you to get inside, but we'll be sealing them up tight again the moment you're through. If you can _assure _me."

Wonder Woman's first response was to make sure the lasso was bound tight against her skin. The second was to lift those anaesthetic tanks all over again - she hadn't lugged them there for nothing. Then she simply nodded at Marsiglia.

"You can be assured," she said with every ounce of confidence she had in her body. "I've faced this before. I know how to beat it. Just be ready for when I signal that the hospital is clear. Once I can take care of the gas, there's going to be a lot of sick and injured people inside needing urgent care. Don't keeping them waiting longer than we have to."

Now it was Marsiglia's turn to offer but a simple nod. And only now did his look start to turn to amazement at what she was doing. But Wonder Woman barely even took it in. For with that, she was already on her way.

What was happening, their fear for the people inside… Despite the awe of seeing a superhero flying into action, most of the crowds had hardly noticed her arrive behind their backs. The crowds of relatives and staff and onlookers and all those scared people fearing for those inside. Now, stepping forward, stepping out from the crowds; now they all saw. Now, all eyes began to turn to Diana. Now, a sudden hush fell among them all, a baited breath. They were still scared, but now they had more, all because they could see her.

Now they had an unbelievable hope.

And Wonder Woman had to make sure she was worthy of that hope.

She didn't look back. She didn't glance at any of them, didn't take in any of the imploring looks, any of the reactions. She just kept stepping forward, towards that doorway. But her steps were unrushed. Time was limited, but she had to take what she had. She had to be in control. She had to master her mind, her emotions. With what lay waiting inside, everything depended on her remembering her ability to love.

Hence the lasso wound tight around her arm. Truth had saved Amara and the others. Truth would save her too, as she stepped into the void, the abyss. It the fog of the gas of the madman that lay beyond that door. The truth of her heart would save her, it would be her gas mask. And it would give her the strength she needed to save these people. She didn't need to implore Hera for it this time. This time, her strength came from within.

From her mother, her queen. Her sisters. The island. The gods. The art. The culture. The Amazon way of life.

From her new life in Man's World. Its people, and their emerging, inner goodness. The collective innocents. The children and the young. The elderly who had earned their years. The good people. People like Walif. Like Amara. People worthy of compassion.

From her friends. Her comrades in arms. Her allies. The people she had stood shoulder to shoulder with in the face of terrible dangers. The people with whom she had learned and grown. With whom she had laughed and cried. Who had formed her new family since leaving her home. Wally. J'onn. Shayera. Oliver. Dinah. Michael. Dick. Tim. Barbara. Alfred.

Lois. Clark.

And Bruce. Always Bruce.

From that first day, meeting by the snow-covered trees. Especially from the moment she first saw his true character as he risked personal sacrifice for his ingenuity, finding a way when the only path looked dark. From Gorilla City, his anguish when he thought she was gone, and his sheepishness when he knew she'd seen it. From the adventure on New Genesis to the dance floors of Paris, the palace of Kasnia to being hunted by Thanagarian soldiers. From pigs to kids to trips through time. From implacable foes to unbeatable odds to heartbroken tragedies. From moments of brevity and joy and wonders to moments of pure emotion and truth and companionship and courage.

From the invading aliens of another dimension, intent to destroy the world just to kill her. From the moment Bruce took it all on alone, crossing between entire universes and fighting an army on his own to save her. From the moment afterwards when, both battered and bruised and broken, they had both been forced to face their true feelings for each other.

From the return of the Imperium invaders and the Martian race they'd eradicated, all in the form of a cerebral energy cloud with the power to not only devastate the physical plane but to strip a consciousness from a body to within its boundaries. The moment where they had been forced to join minds to find the cloud, the moment they had seen each other's memories and experiences. When she had felt his pain, his burdens, but also got to finally fully understand his love. And the moment when, fighting to bring an entire race back from the brink of extinction and save all of Metropolis, they had taken control of the cloud as they embraced in a kiss. The kiss seen around the world…

From the murder of Audrey in Kasnia… From the Bertinelli's attempt to regain control of their crime empire… The Thanagarians. Vandall Savage. Circe. Ovada Kaah. The Imperium. Niedem. The Joker. Clayface. The Mad Hatter. Scarecrow. The Penguin. Harley Quinn. Kite Man. Calendar Man. Livewire. Luthor. Darkseid. Brainiac. All manner of villains. All manner of horrors unleashed. All manner of darkness faced.

Yet through it all, she had fought to retain her soul. _They _had fought to retain who they were. Their goodness. Their heart. Their compassion. Their empathy.

Their love. The love she couldn't forget. The love that was stronger than anything. The love that was her greatest truth.

The love for every living thing. The love for her people. The love for these people. The love for her friends.

The love for Bruce.

It was just like she had realised back in that camp, what now felt so very long ago. Love was the key.

Barely even registering it, it was only then that Wonder Woman noticed she had just reached the sealed doorway into the hospital. Now, closer in, she could see even more of the chaos behind the glass. The riots within the gas. The fight among the people in there, the coldness, the heartlessness. She had to stop it, but she had her plan. Hefting the anaesthetic canisters in her grip, she definitely had a plan. For as long as truth and love prevailed.

Standing there, she took a deep, steadying breath, trying to fight the paranoia and fear in the pit of her stomach. Trying to destroy the nagging doubt that not even the lasso, not even the strength of her heart would guide her to overcoming the gas and what the Pyg had done. Then, defiantly, remembering Bruce all the more, she finally glanced back to Marsiglia all over again. Once again, the only signal required was the nod.

Then, things started to happen fast. Then, the door opened up, for a moment as fleeting as Marsiglia had implied. But a moment enough for Wonder Woman to step inside.

For her to step into the chaos. Into the gas. Already it was burning into her lungs, yet the lasso burned brighter around her arm. She could feel the battle already starting to rage in her head, the forces of heartlessness against the power of truth, but while it stang, she pressed on regardless. She had to. She had to get deep inside.

And towards whatever else she would find beyond.

* * *

The crack grew. The sound of the glass starting to shatter was eruptive, louder even than the slam of the metal against the pane. Any second now, he was going to break through. And when he did…

She needed something, some way to defend herself. And, out of her eye corner, she spotted it. The way out she'd only find in a hospital. Out of her other eye corner, she saw the shine of the metal cleaver flying in again. It meant she couldn't wait, couldn't think this through. She could only leap across to grab for what she'd seen.

Thankfully, the clang of the reverberating glass sounded again. Once again, the whole thing shook, the cracks now filling virtually the entire area, but it didn't cave in yet. Not even a little, even the gas held at bay. It meant she had time to throw up the dial, to jam in the button. To hear the squeal of power surging into it. A power now in her hands as she gripped both devices in the air.

Her heart was pounding, the air rippling around her. Her hands were shaking but she held on tight. But as she span back towards that pane, it was only for things to get even worse.

It was in time to see the Pyg swinging his cleaver all over again, his entire body weight thrusting through the strike. A strike that dealt the final blow against the glass's resistance.

With a deafening smash, the entire wall of glass caved into a hundred thousand pieces. Some went flying, causing her to momentarily have shield her eyes; others crashed straight to the floor. His momentum meant Pyg kept flying after the shards, flung heavyset arm – cleaver too, practically slicing into the. Several off balance, heavy footsteps into the patient's room followed too, crunching down into the glass to leave him deck barely a pace away from where she stood. But the next moment, his head was raising from the depths, body twisting to face her, maniacal grin beaming out from beneath the mask. His feelings were clear. The time had come for the kill, and it brought joy to his heartless heart.

"Heeeeere's Pyggy!"

She could have hesitated. She could have frozen. She could have given him the chance to raise that cleaver from the depths all over again, driven by the fear of him doing exactly that. But she didn't.

Because in that moment, Lois rammed both fully charged defibrillator paddles right into either side of Pyg's grotesque face.

The current surged out of the paddles and into his body, straight through his brain. The surge of energy was like being hit by a truck. Even all his weight couldn't pin Pyg down. He was sent flying across the room, straight back through the hole he'd smashed through the glass. Straight back through the air. Straight back to those screens. Straight into them. This time it was his head smashing through the glass. This time, all new sparks were flying round his eyes. All new energy coursing through his body.

By the time Pyg slid out of the screen and was collapsing to the floor, his entire head was smoking. His head burnt badly, the mask sizzling as if burnt to his head.

And there he lay, twitching. Unconscious. Defeated. His cleaver left harmlessly clattered across the floor.

Lois should have felt relieved. She should have been able to celebrate. But suddenly, she couldn't feel anything of the sort. Because Pyg hadn't been the only thing to break through that glass.

The gas was all around her. There was no escaping it. The adrenaline of the action. It meant that, even with an intention to hold her breath, she simply couldn't. She couldn't avoid exactly the same fate that was befalling everyone in this building.

It was already hitting her strong. Her breath had become heavy, deep as she tried to hang onto her mind. It was like that room downstairs all over again. Less intense without the electrical stimuli, but her mind felt the same. Clark… Clark was slipping away…

No… No, not yet… Not while she could help. She was slipping away. She couldn't resist the gas. Or at least, she couldn't for long. But for as long as she could, she had to…

For she'd spotted something else fallen on the floor, left abandoned after Pyg's flight across the room. The smartphone he'd used to unleash the gas was right there in front of her. Maybe, just maybe, she could use it to stop this.

Finally able to move again, Lois snatched forward, grabbing the device from amongst the shattered glass. But as she did, she saw the bad news. Its screen was locked.

"No!" Lois yelled at the inanimate object. "No no no no no no no!"

She desperately turned it in her hand, looking for something, for any kind of hope. So obsessed, she almost jumped as the whole thing buzzed in her hand. It took her a moment to realise it was because she'd caught the pad on the back of the device. The fingerprint scanner…

Lois almost let out a squeal of joy at the sight of it, looking up to Pyg's still twitching fingers. Barely raising from her hands and knees, Lois scrambled through the glass towards his fallen form. Moments ago she would have done anything to avoid those hands. Now she was desperately grabbing onto them, pulling one of those podgy fingers forward. Her own hands were shaking so much she had to jab at that finger print scanner several times before the vibration of failure was replaced by the light of success.

This time, the squeal was unstoppable as she saw the phone unlock. Pyg's hand dropped limply from Lois' grasp as soon as she didn't need it anymore. She rose, turning away from him, both to get away from his repulsiveness and because she simply didn't need to be on the floor any more. Instead, she began tapping at the device, the device now showing her the Pyg's canisters. The means he'd used to unleash horror on this hospital.

And to show Lois that, from here, it was already too late. Desperately she was pressing at every button she could find, but it was futile. The gas was out, and there wasn't just no way to put back in its box, there was no way to stop the unleashing of the canisters. There was nothing Lois could do.

Her yell was now one of despair. Distraught was too timid a word. Fearing everything was already lost, Lois hurled the phone away in desolation. The next moment, her head was in her hands. And all the while, she could feel Clark slipping further and further away…

It was as her hands finally dropped away, as she could feel her heart eroding, that she saw something else in her eye corners. One of the screens hadn't been smashed by the Pyg. It was still showing what was happening in the hospital below. But that wasn't what really caught Lois' eye. No, that was _who _she had seen in the building.

Diana._ Wonder Woman_. She was here. She was _here_. Lois' one hope of ending this. She was here, with some tanks of her own carried under her arms. Wonder Woman was here to save the day.

To…save…

Clark was gone. Lois' heart was gone. Her compassion… Her empathy… Her…_resistance_…

And something else was replacing it. Unbridled. No longer did the love in her heart keep it at bay. It was safe to say she had hated what the Pyg was from the moment she first became aware of it. More so once she came face to face with him. But it was a hate that she could control, a hate her compassion made her want to defeat, to destroy. But to kill.

But now…

Now the Pyg was left unconscious and broken at her feet. Left completely at her mercy.

And the cleaver, the deadly blade that had already been swung so often, was just a couple of metres away. A distance that was soon closed.

Then, mercilessly, Lois bent to pick it up. The feel of the steel now clutched in her hand, it was cold. Just as her heart was cold.

Cold, like the best served revenge.

And there, still at her feet, Lois looked down at the smouldering face of the Pyg, the blade of the cleaver hovering at her side.

Just waiting for that final swing…


	10. 7,2: And Not To Yield

**7.2: …And Not To Yield**

She looped the lasso at the thrown fist in the midst of summersaulting through the air. A tug of the rope and it was taut before she touched the ground. The maintenance technician was immediately spinning, fury in his eyes, ready to hurl another punch. Ready to try again to stab her with the screwdriver in his grasp.

But a thrust of her arm backwards was all it took to throw him off balance. The other end of the lasso still tied around her own wrist, she pulled him that way like a puppet on a string. Then, one hard stamp to the back of his knee was enough to knock the latest assailant down. Another kick, and his makeshift weapon was sent scuttling across the deck.

Too many in this hospital had needed to be taken out in that way. Too many. Too many succumbing to rage in their absence of love. An unfortunate path of broken and injured lay in her wake. But considering the broken and injured in this building who would be in an even worse state soon if she didn't act, she didn't hold back. And that was why the lasso was now starting to glow even stronger again, as the man at her feet shared the kind of truths with him that it was constantly pumping into her own mind too.

The truths that were keeping her sane.

The truths that were reminding Wonder Woman that she was loved. And that she loved in return.

But she also had to move fast. She had passed so many suffering the effects of the gas, directly or indirectly, but she had only had time to subdue the most violent. She had only had time to use the lasso on the most extreme cases were death seemed otherwise inevitable. Because she couldn't get around everyone, not before they would have already lost. Not just with the lasso. She had to try something else.

Which was where the tanks came in. The tanks she'd taken from Pyg's own surgery.

The anaesthetics. Knock out gas.

The vents, their path in the walls, it had led her here, even if it hadn't been her only guide. Now, as the man at her feet finally began to calm under the lasso's freeing influence, her determined eyes set on the door up ahead. The maintenance room. The place with the air filters, the fans, where all the fresh air pumped around this sealed hospital was distributed. The place where Pyg must have unleashed his gas.

And the place where she would unleash hers to stop it.

But in looking up, Wonder Woman noticed something else, something that made her pause, even now. A hole in the wall, looking like it had been made by some form of blade. And there, dripped below it, _red_… Blood red… A veritable trail of it…

_Lois_…

The kick she unleashed at the door before her had even more venom than required after that. Her accompanying growl must have been heard miles away. She could put two and two together, she could guess that her friend was in grave danger, but there was nothing she could do to help. Not yet. Not until the hospital was safe. A thousand lives or one life… But it was safe to say, her determination was steelier than ever before.

She would save them. She would save them _all_.

The door was smashed clean off its hinges, flying back with a clatter and a bang. The room revealed was dark, dingy, but Wonder Woman needed only to see one thing. The huge bank of fans built into the far wall to distribute the air. And the canisters of toxin still slowly spewing their contents out for all in this place to irresistibly breathe.

The lasso must have known what she needed to do. Because she made no effort to unhook it from the man left dumped on the floor. She merely let it grow again. As, with the speed of the gods, Wonder Woman leapt forwards towards those tanks. Then, with the strength and precision of a Titan, the grabbed the nozzles of all of them, every point where the gas spewed forth, and crushed. Teeth bared, she squeezed the usually inelastic metal tight. So tight the flesh of her hands went white. And then she kept on squeezing. Only worry about the time the people in this building had left made her finally let go. But when she did, it was to see exactly what she had wanted to see.

The tanks were sealed. Not a single drop more was escaping.

But enough damage had already been done. Her own rage at what the Pyg had done here showed as Wonder Woman cast those canisters aside with nothing more than a swipe of her hand. It was strong enough to send them all scattering out the way like bowling pins, not firm enough that they would break open all over again. Over the tumultuousness of their fall, though, Wonder Woman's next action was one of much greater calm. Next, she was stepping back to where the fallen maintenance man still lay. To gather up the anaesthetic tanks she had left by the doorway, that she had carried all that way.

And, as she gathered them up and stepped back towards those fans, she simply also redrew the phone. For even hard-hitting, award winning, danger-enduring reporters who were coupled with an almost indestructible powerhouse could care and worry for their partner enough to store their work number in even their spare device.

"Wonder Woman to Metrotower. Michael, you still with me?"

"Nowhere else I'd rather be," Mr. Terrific's dulcet tones burst from the speaker. "I've still got eyes on you on the feed. Diana, you're going to have to…"

"Hurry, I know," she quickly reacted. Hera, did she already know that. But such reminders weren't why she had Mr. Terrific on the line anyway. What she needed was eyes and ears. Hacked remotely into the building's security feeds, Mr. Terrific could be exactly that. "I'm on it. But very soon I'm not going to be able to breathe, let alone speak. I can't afford for this to take me down too. I need you to tell me when everyone else in this place is down. Tell me when its clear."

"The very second," Mr. Terrific curtly confirmed.

It was all Wonder Woman needed to hear. The anaesthetic tanks were already set in place, right against the fans. She needed this stuff to spread, and spread fast. She'd seen it in action, she knew how fast it could knock out someone infected by the Pyg. It just had to reach them. But even with the suction of the fans, she knew that blowback was inevitable. And she didn't want to test how that stuff would affect her.

Which was why she breathed in deep one last time before she finally turned the dials.

The anaesthetic was immediately spilling out. Immediately, it was being dragged into those fans. Immediately, it was beginning to spread… But, just as feared, that feared wasn't one dimensional. It wasn't taking much effort yet to keep her breath bated. The tension alone was doing that. But the need was greater.

Before her very eyes the spray of fumes began to build around her. Diana took a literal step back as if it would help, but the wall was forming in the room, every bit of the gas that wasn't pulled into the fans merging. Strengthening. Like a swarm. A swarm that was coming right for her. Durability was her greatest ally. She could feel the air in her lungs draining away, but she could hold on where others could not. Even as the swarm slowly began to envelop her.

Within moments she was fully within the cloud. She could feel it on her flesh, a heavy hang to a gaseous substance. Her eyes burned slightly within it but she didn't look away. All that mattered was that she didn't go down. Even completely surrounded by the strongest anaesthetic she could get her hands on, Wonder Woman was still standing. But there was no room to doubt the gas' power. The blowback continued to spread. Only moments later, it had enveloped the maintenance tech, still wrapped in the lasso's grasp. After only a few more seconds, he was completed out for the count.

It was working. Now it just had to work fast enough…

Time began to tick by. What was no doubt seconds began to feel like hours. But the silence in Diana's ears was deafening. Her eyes were starting to not be the only thing burning either. Her lungs, her trachea… Enough time had passed that even Wonder Woman was starting to struggle. Even Amazon's needed to breathe. Her body was starting to scream at her, to tell her that time had come. She told it no. She resisted. She ignored the weakness. She kept on standing. The sight of that blood trail outside, the whole in the wall… It meant that she had to.

Yet still the phone remained silent. Quickly Wonder Woman stared at it, as if expecting to see it broken. But it wasn't, and the call was still connected. Which could only mean the anaesthetic was yet to run its course. That some of the hospital was still awake. That the coast wasn't clear…

They all had to be taken down. Everyone in the building that could pose a danger. They all needed to fall. They couldn't afford to miss anybody, to have anyone remain infected. What Pyg did _had _to be undone. And so Diana would have to endure. No matter how long it took. Even if that time was already well beyond what any mere mortal would last without breathing… Even if she was really starting to struggle too…

Reflexes were trying to kick in, reflexes she had to fight hard. Her body wanted a breath, regardless of what it would be that she'd be taking in. Her mind resisted with every ounce of strength it had. But it was a strength that was slowly starting to run out. A fact made all the clearer only moments later when she almost collapsed. Her legs buckled under her, Wonder Woman only staying somewhat upright as she caught herself on those tanks still pumping out the anaesthesia.

Steadily, she forced herself back up, but this was it. This was the threshold. It was now or never. And to symbolise that, she raised the phone again. She might not be able to talk, but she could still communicate. She had to get Mr. Terrific's attention. Identifying the microphone, she started to tap away on it, almost like in code. A message in its simplest form.

A message that was received.

"Hold on, Diana, hold on!" Mr Terrific called back. "We're almost there. The anaesthetic has permeated the final areas of the hospital now. Only the last areas left to go! Only the last few people standing! Just stay with me. Stay with me! Any second… _Now! _Now, Diana, now!"

She didn't need telling twice. Knowing the plan, she'd clocked the controls the moment she'd stepped into the room. The emergency ventilation systems, ready to vent all toxins from the building and into the atmosphere, allowing clean air in in its place. Wonder Woman could only figure it was part of some sort of contamination containment system, but frankly she didn't care. All she cared about was pulling that damn lever, fast.

She felt the suction immediately. Not fierce enough to have a definitive pull, but enough to make all the air around her move. Enough to confirm it was actually happening. But a building this size, it would take time to scrub the whole place of substance infused air. Time before it was safe to breathe. Which meant she still had to hold her breath. She had to hold on. She simply couldn't risk it.

Not when, in her heart, perhaps enhanced by the truths of the lasso, she _knew_ that there was at least one person left in this place who may not have fallen.

But every second now was practical agony for her. Even though her will held strong, her strength was dwindling. No longer could she hold herself. She dropped in stages. Her knees buckled. Then her arms could no longer hold her. Before she knew it, she was crumpled in a ball on the floor. Her body was literally starting to convulse, fighting her, desperate screaming for air. But she wouldn't give it what it wanted, not until she knew it was safe.

But now her vision was starting to get foggy… Starting to get dark… She didn't need the anaesthesia. She was on the verge of passing out anyway…

"Diana! Diana, are you still there…?"

The voice… The distant voice the electronic voice… Coming from the light a short distance away… The _phone_… Mr. Terrific… Hera, she was so close to the edge she was almost delirious. This had to be one thing and one thing only. This had to be good news.

"Diana, I'm patched into the Watchtower sensors and have them locked on your area. All chemical scans indicate the air in that building is now ninety-five percent clean. The traces of anaesthesia left are minimal. You're in the clear! Just tell me you're still out there!"

But she didn't speak, even then. There was only one thing she could do. _Breathe_.

The inhalation was sharp, almost painful in its own suddenness but most definitely jubilant. Air rushed back into her lungs at a rate of knots, her throat wheezing as she sucked it in deep. It was followed by another breath, and another, almost at a cough and a splutter as her body finally won the battle. As it did so, slowly but surely her vision began to clear too. Her strength was coming back to her even slower but it was there. And with each breath she could tell the anaesthesia was indeed gone. It had done what it had to. And so had she.

Slowly, Wonder Woman heaved herself back up, calm in motions so as not to exert too fast too soon. But she still had focus as she moved straight back towards that phone, awkwardly gathering it back up from where it had dropped when she fell. Mr. Terrific was still calling out to her from it, desperate to make sure she was okay.

"I'm here, Michael," she wheezed down it, taking that initial moment to comfort before getting straight on with the matter at hand. A matter brought home as she gazed out into the corridor. The fallen maintenance tech was still unconscious where he'd fallen. The anaesthesia may have dissipated, but all who had succumbed to it would still be feeling its effects for a while. Giving them the chance to end this once and for all. "I'm here. You need to contact Assistant Superintendent Fazio Marsiglia. He's commanding the Police forces outside the building. Let him know it's safe. Let him know it's safe for his people to enter the building. Get them in here, now. Get every single person locked down before they start waking up. Get them isolated and secure until I can get to each of them with the lasso. And get every last medic you can in here. There's a lot of sick people in here needing a lot of help. Get them in here. Get them here fast."

"I'm on it!" Mr. Terrific quickly gave the affirmative. "I'm on it. I've already got them all on standby. They'll be inside bef– Wait a second… What's that…? Who's…? Wonder Woman, we might have a problem here. There's someone else still conscious in that building…"

It was news that clearly startled Mr. Terrific, but it didn't startle Diana. Her strength was increasingly coming back to her. She was almost walking normally again by then. Yet she had still made it to the corridor already, back past that unconscious man. Back to within sight of the hole in the wall, of the blood trail on the floor.

The path to Lois. And to the Pyg.

"I know Michael. Just get the Police and the Medics in here. I'm already on my way."

* * *

The trail ran almost through the length and breadth of the hospital, or at least it felt that way. Enough so that the dread was building, dread over what she what find when she reached the end of it. A dread only countered by faith in her friend's ability to survive. But even that faith was being tested. Tested by the spatters of blood lining these corridors around her.

Wonder Woman surged through the building, following the trail tight, up through the elevator shaft, up to the higher floors. Her energy, her strength, it was with her in full again now, spurred there with each passing moment, with each frightened thought. She barely even stopped to register the unconscious medical staff, patients and other occupants of the building, not even to celebrate the success of stopping the Pyg's gas. She barely even registered the distant sounds of Marsiglia's forces and the emergency medics surging into the building and to complete the rescue of those innocent people so nearly torn apart by the madman. Because for Wonder Woman there was only the trial, and the fate of her friend.

There was only the race to save Lois Lane from the clutches of Professor Pyg.

And finally, at long last, the trail stopped. No more drips of blood. Instead, they were disappearing beyond a sealed door. A sealed door with a sign outside; 'Quarantine'. Mr. Terrific had said there was one other conscious life signature left in the building beside herself. It made sense that they would be found here, in the sealed room which would have an isolated airflow. But as she stared at that door, Wonder Woman was left with one clear question.

Who was it still conscious in there? Was it Lois, or was it the Pyg? And if it was Lois that was down…

She only paused long enough to steady herself and then, with a thrust of effort, Wonder Woman slammed her fist clean through the sealed door. A hard jerk backwards and the whole things was torn from its hinges, sent flying over Wonder Woman's shoulder and clattering into the corridor behind her. Leaving Diana immediately able to see the room beyond…

And what she saw, it immediately stopped her in her tracks. But it wasn't the sight she had feared. It wasn't Lois' end. But it still sent chills down her spine. Chills of fear.

There was the Pyg, but not as she expected. Not as the figure of menace. He was slumped, beaten, fallen. _He _was unconscious. His face, almost lifeless. Crisp. So burnt it was still smoking, encrusted with black. His eyes closed, head lolled, arms limp and fallen by his side as gravity pulled his extremities down. And like that he remained, unmoving, propped up in an office chair by the bank of smashed screens. Defeated. Harmless.

And completely at her mercy…

Pyg wasn't alone. Wonder Woman had raced here to save her. But she had had no idea that it was to save her from herself.

Because there she was, Lois Lane. The gash in her arm, drying blood trails running to her fingers, a sweat and exhaustion radiating from her. Yet stood tall, proud, defiant. A fact Diana should have been celebrating, but a fact that she could only fear. Lois should be standing in victory, in relief at survival, and in joy at contributing to saving the people in this building. But instead she stood only in malice.

It was like she had known that Diana was coming. Maybe she had. Maybe somehow she'd seen everything that was happening. Maybe that was how she had known how to escape the anaesthetic gas. It was like she had intentionally propped the Pyg up like that in that chair, to put him on display for Wonder Woman to see. But not as a trophy. No, as a marker, a judgement. A cry for help…

The crisp shine of the metal cleaver gleamed out to Diana's eyes from where Lois held it, clutched tight. The cleaver stained with her own blood, the symbol of Pyg's menace and malevolence.

The cleaver she now held right at Pyg's throat.

Wonder Woman's instinct was clear. It was sudden, breaking the burdens of the shock. She didn't need to think to understand. She'd seen it too often already today, in the Amara, in the dolls, in the doctors and patients in this building. Lois had been affected by the Pyg's gas, just like everyone else in here. The only explanation she would act like this. The only reason why the warmth in her eyes had gone so cold. But also meaning that, just like the others, she could be saved, before she did something she'd live to regret. Forever.

Wonder Woman's reflexes were quick. Very quick. Hands wrapping around that all important lasso. But even as she was starting to take hold of the golden twine, she was stopped fast. She was stopped as the blade pressed deeper into the Pyg's throat. As Lois moved closer to the kill.

The message was clear. Wonder Woman was rapid, but she couldn't move quicker than time and physics. She couldn't free Lois before Lois could free the Pyg's blood.

And so Diana was left no choice but to let her hand drop away.

"Don't. Don't try to stop this, Diana. You cannot save him. He doesn't _deserve_ it."

Lois spoke with such coldness, bitterness. Such hatred. All tones so alien to the woman Diana knew. Lois had always had steel, gumption, at times almost animosity, but never this. There had always been a clear sense that she spared such feelings for only those warranting them, and that she knew exactly where to draw the line. Now… Now it felt like the line had been torn away. Like the Lois Lane Diana knew was gone.

She had to bring her back.

"And neither does he deserve to die," Diana was quick to add. Both her hands were now raised. In part it was a sign of her compliance, to show Lois she wasn't going for the Lois. But it was also the universal gesture to stop. "Lois, we've beat him. We can save everyone. Its over. He will face the justice of his people, but not like this. This is wrong. Murdering him now is not the answer."

"Don't!" Lois snapped back, face twisted, blade pressing into Pyg's neck enough that for a moment Wonder Woman panicked it was already the end. Luckily, the skin remained unbroken. For now. But any more pressure… "Don't talk like that! Don't try to sound like you're Clark! Like you're Bruce! It doesn't suit you, Diana! I know you. You aren't them!"

"You're right," Diana instantly agreed, trying to temper Lois' rage however she could. "You're right. I don't always agree with them, with their methods. I… I am prepared to do what I need to do, should the situation demand it. Should it save other lives. I am prepared to have blood on my hands. But not like this Lois. Never like this."

"Why not?" Lois countered. "Why not _exactly _like this? He's a monster, Diana, you of all people should see that! You know what he's done, the lives he's destroyed, the people he's had killed! And he'll do it all again, if we let him leave this room alive! This is the only way to stop him. The only way to keep everyone safe!"

"And what about you, Lois? Would you then be safe? Would I, if I let you do this? How would we be any better than him? How would we be able to justify our cause? Lois, I get it, I do. Putting a permanent end to him is a quick and an easy answer. One so tantalising in its temptation. One so alluring. But what happens when the next villain rises up to take his place? And the next? And the next?"

"Then we do the same!" Lois refused to back down. "Again, and again, and again if we have to! Until these people learn that we won't accept their tyranny and terror in our world! Until they learn of the consequences!"

"Lois, you're talking about fighting terror with terror." Wonder Woman was doing her best to keep her voice calm, to defuse things. Lois was infected by the gas, her love and compassion were gone, there was no doubt about that. But while the loveless nature emboldened hate, it didn't ensure it. If she could calm Lois down, just enough… Just enough to think clearly again… "Don't you see the continuum, the paradox? If you go down this path, you set yourself on the course to be exactly what you're trying to destroy. Don't you see that? There is a better way. His threat has been ended. Now we can control it, we can eradicate the risk. We can lock him away where he will never harm anyone again. Where we can try to help him heal. But killing him isn't the answer. Killing in cold blood can never be the answer."

"I already told you, Diana. No matter how infatuated you are with him, you are _not _Bruce!"

"And you aren't a killer Lois," Diana retorted, casting aside Lois' pushback, pressing on her point. "And I think you remember that. I think, underneath everything that's been done to you, you remember who you really are. You remember that this isn't you, but just another side effect of his mania. That you're just another victim of this terror. And I think, deep down, you're fighting to save yourself. That's why Pyg is propped in that chair, why you waited for me to get here. Why he's still alive, instead of already dead."

Lois squirmed at that, clearly having heard something she hadn't wanted to hear. But thankfully, that cleaver didn't press any deeper. Yet it also didn't move any further away.

"Maybe I just wanted you to see," Lois finally snarled. "Maybe I wanted you to witness the moment he's ended. When_ justice_ prevails. Maybe I just wanted you to witness it, so you I could help you to see the same light I've seen. Maybe I wanted to help you understand what needs to be done to make the world a better place."

"Or maybe you want me to save you," Diana added. Now her voice was full of her own warmth, her own love for her friend. Lois voice had quivered as she had just spoken. Fractional, barely noticeable, but it was there. That brief moment of doubt. The faintest of cracks that Diana had to smash open. If she wanted to save her friend from the brink, she _had _to smash it open. "Maybe you were hoping I could save you from the gas before it was too late. And I can Lois. I can save you. You only have to let me. Listen to your heart. Remember your love. Love like that I have for you, my friend. Let it in. Let me save you."

"No! No, you can't!" Lois yelled, anything but calm, anything but warm. "You can't because there is _nothing_ to save me from! I refuse to be blinded like I once was, Diana. I refuse! Valentin, the Pyg. He's a monster. He deserves to _die_! But he was right about one thing. Love _is _holding us back! Love is dangerous. And we must break its spell! And that starts today! Right here, right _now_!"

"How can you say that?" Diana leapt in again quick. Once again, Lois had that cleaver held in far too close for comfort. Diana had to say something, _anything_ to keep her distracted. To hold the cutthroat moment at bay. "Lois, you can't honestly believe that…?"

"Why not?" Lois simply snapped back, though consolingly in a way so as to once again put her focus on Wonder Woman instead of the blade. Below her, Pyg remained completely motionlessly, completely unconscious, completely unaware of just how much danger he was in. "Why can't it be the truth? Why is it so unfeasible that we've been so blinded by the comfort blanket of love for all this time that we can't see what needs to be done? You should have seen enough proof by now Diana. You've lived in our world long enough, away from the shelter of paradise. And even casting the majority of it aside, you should've seen _Gotham_ enough by now, now that _love _has steered you there. You've seen its terrors. You've seen its people suffering, burning. Dying. And how many of those people would have escaped that fate if their hero hadn't held back? If love hadn't blinded him to what needed to be done? Well, Diana? How many people would still be here if your beloved Bruce had killed the Clown years ago?! If he'd killed all of those freaks?! _How many people would still be here if the city hadn't burned because Bruce fell in love with you_?!"

And with that, somehow this had managed to get even more personal. The chaos in Gotham City seemed to be an eternal burden, at least for the last century. One that Diana had learned was far harder to solve than some people would believe. And one for which she had recently learned the hard way the true extent of its darkness. A fact which still left her heartbroken.

But she also had gained more than a little experience and understanding of her watchful guardian. Including the inner most recesses of his heart. All of his strengths, but also all of his burdens. All the innermost demons he had to fight every single day. The aching abyss surrounding him.

And his unerring resilience to it. His refusal to fall in.

"If he had, if he'd killed them, then Gotham would have had a new villain to fear in their place." They weren't easy words to say, but Wonder Woman found herself saying them. She didn't need the end of the lasso still wrapped around her arm to know it to be a truth either. There was no knowing what may or may not happen for sure, but she knew it was what he believed, what he feared, and that was enough. Especially when it further showed just how good a man he truly was. "Lois, I have not only shared his heart, I have seen into his mind. I see the truth in Batman every single day. And I know the theory you've have put forward is one that weighs heavily on him, and will do so to the end of his days. Bruce would give everything to protect the people of Gotham. Everything. Even his soul. Yet that remains a line he refuses to cross.

"You were once close to him yourself, Lois. I know you were. You may not have been with him for long, especially not in knowledge of who he truly is, but you should know that much. You should know just how strong his need is to keep good people safe. He may not be the most openly emotive of men, but the feelings in his heart are the strongest I have ever known. Ultimately, its those that mean he's served millions of lives, time and time again. And ultimately, that's all because he has so much love.

"The love he has for his parents drives his pain. And his pain drives his need to protect everyone else so no one else has to hurt the way he hurts. It drives his compassion for all the innocent, all the victims, all those who need protection. A love that drives him to need to protect them all and spare them the same pain that he felt. There's so much rage in him, so much hate, and without that love, that's all that he would be. And with those alone… There's no telling where it would end. Not just the Joker, the Penguin, Scarecrow, Zsasz… It doesn't bare thinking about.

"But he has so much love. So much love. A love that keeps him from that abyss. That lets him walk his life on the brink of the pit of endless darkness and not fall in. To never fall in. To pull him back when life tries to break him. When he's on the verge of falling, the love of his friends, his family, his people, is always there to pull him back.

"Lois, love isn't what stops Batman from saving Gotham. His refusal to kill, it doesn't hinder him. It _saves _him. Love is what makes Bruce the hero he is. And because of that love, he saves them all. Time and time again."

Lois seemingly could only stare as Diana finally broke off her speech, but she could only hope it was a good sign. Because there was something in Lois' eyes, something that had grown increasingly with every word that she'd just said. It was almost a…a _tenderness_. A regret, a compassion… Almost a sign that the real Lois Lane was starting to break back through. A sign that was exactly what Diana needed. A sign that made her even dare to take one delicate step forward towards her damaged friend…

"Stop, stop walking!" Lois finally shouted out as Wonder Woman dared to try for another step, grabbing hold of the back of Pyg's head to make her point. But her voice, it showed similar signs to her eyes. The faint crack, the doubt among the rage. It held hope. "Stop or so help me, this floor will turn red!"

"Okay!" Diana quickly accepted, stopping as ordered and putting her hands back up as before. "Okay, I'm stopped. But Lois, you have to listen to me. You have to _hear _me. Because I _know_ the importance of love. I know it. I was raised on it. Amazon's are warriors born, but in all of us is instilled the belief that paradise can only be maintained through love. Yet that upbringing, that training, it couldn't prepare me for what I have learned since I left the island. Because this world Lois, is full of so much love, if only it will allow itself to feel it. Hatred, bigotry, prejudice, violence, war. They all still linger. Bad people remain. But behind it all, fighting to be heard, is an ocean of love. Togetherness. Hope. I see it every day. I may despair that its being kept at bay by the tides of archaic aggression, but I know its there. Among the people, the citizenry, the comradery. It is there. Its what holds the society of Man's World together. What moves it forwards. What has enabled it to become what it is today. What defines its efforts to better itself for tomorrow. What holds it together even when the world is crumbling around them. It is there. And I would despair so much more if it was gone.

"But more than any of that, I know it because I _feel _it. Lois, I feel that love. I felt it all my life, but since I came here, to your world… Since I met Bruce… My life is love, but through him I've found a whole new meaning to it. It has given me a place in Man's World beyond which I ever thought I could achieve. Themyscira will forever be my home, but now, through love… Now this is my home too. Now I don't feel like the outside, a god among men. Now I feel like two worlds have been brought together.

"Part of my reason for coming to Man's World was to bring it to the light, to make it so Themyscira wasn't the only paradise. But with all the things I've seen, all the terrors… It would be easy to believe the mission was impossible. But I never doubt in it. Because I have seen the proof that even the darkest of places can see the light. My love for Bruce, his love for me… It hasn't only given my mission of peace a new strength, but also hope. Hope that if two as different as we can find such happiness, that if a man full of such torment and pain can strive so hard for love and betterment, then we can bring the whole world to being paradise.

"But it can only be achieved through love. By not succumbing to the darkness forever encroaching around us. Through embracing what we love and accepting the others. Through togetherness. Through hope. Lois, it's the same realisation I had back at the migrant camp, how I realised the only way we can save the Nairomians. It's the only way we can save everyone. And its why I can't accept what the Pyg has done to you.

"Love, Lois. Love is the key to everything. Love will save us all. And it can save you now. Please. Let it save you."

Every word seemed to be hitting Lois deeper and deeper. It was just like last time, only it was getting more and more visible. More and more obvious. The spark in her eyes, the warmth that had been extinguished, it was like it was coming back. Reflected ever more by the faint signs of tears beginning to form in her eye corners. And as if to make it even clearer, that cleaver had even begun to drift slightly away from the Pyg's throat.

It was enough of a signal for Diana to press on once again. Keeping her hands raised, keeping her eyes on Lois, she once again began to slowly step forward. First one step, then another, then another. She was only a few steps away when Lois snapped back from the clutches of her true self and into the cold creature she was at risk of becoming.

It all happened in an instant. The spark vanishing from the eyes. The swing of the blade. The piercing of the flesh. Diana was stopped in her tracks. In that moment, it seemed like the worst had happened. That she had failed to break through, and that now it was too late. Especially as she saw the blood…

But then the initial panic gave way to her senses. Then Diana could see that it wasn't Pyg's jugular. Lois had nicked his neck, yes, but she hadn't cut deep. She hadn't delivered a fatal blow. Jus the warning sign. Another warning for Diana to stay back. One she followed up verbally only a second later.

"I said stay back, Diana! Damn it, I _will kill him_!"

Wonder Woman fought to steady her breath again, letting the remains of the panic fade, trying to bring back the calm. It was working. She knew it was working. The fact she'd managed to take this many steps proved it was working. But she wasn't there yet. There were more steps to go. And she had to break through. She had to save Lois from what she was threatening to become.

"I don't believe you, Lois," Diana said as calmly as she could, a gentle shake of her head but those arms still outstretched. "I don't you. Its not in you. You aren't a killer. You aren't a _murderer_. And you know that. You know that Lois. That's why he was still alive when I got here. Its why he's still alive now. I think you're remembering it more and more. That you're resisting what he did to you. That you're remembering _who you are_. The good person who I am more than honoured to call my friend.

"Lois, you are one of the greatest people I have ever known. Passionate, resourceful, skilful, determined. Capable of changing the course of nations with a few moves of a pen. But better than any of that is your heart. It's so full of love, of goodness. Just like Bruce, but without the tragedy. It means you're so ready to do the right thing. That drives you to keep putting yourself at incredible risk to uncover the truth of a story, so that you can spread the word and help the people to face the danger. Lois, you are as much of a hero as any of us. And you do it all without a mask, without metahuman abilities, but most importantly without fear. And with love in your heart. That's what makes you who you are. _That's _what makes you my friend. And that's what meant you were the only woman on this planet capable of holding onto the heart of the mightiest man alive.

"You love him, Lois. You know you love him. No amount of chemical agent can change that, or make you forget that. And he loves you. With every ounce of strength he has. And that is a _lot_. No one can love anyone more. And he needs that. He needs you.

"Clark is the most powerful person on the planet Lois, and with that he can do so much good. But he also needs to have so much restraint. The temptations with that power are intense. To literally have the ability to shape the world how he wants…? Believe me, I know. And I know just how dangerous those temptations could be. How much damage could be done to this world, to its people, to its trust in us and in our ability to protect them, if we gave in to those temptations. Clark especially. Clark has to be restrained. He can only use his power for good. And he has to trust humanity not to fail around him. But to do that, he needs his anchor. He needs to be grounded. He needs things to remind him every day that, deep down, he's the most human of anyone. And to do that, he needs you Lois. His love for you. Ma and Pa Kent instilled the compassion in him that made him the hero he is, but no one can inspire him like you. Superman has the ability to carry the world to a better tomorrow. But everyone on the Justice League knows, its Lois Lane who carries Superman.

"Clark is key to protecting billions of lives, but you're the key to Clark, Lois. And that, again, is all down to love."

Now there were definite tears in Lois' eyes. Now there was a definite quiver to Lois. Now that cleaver was definitely being moved away from Pyg's neck…

It was like Lois' eyes weren't on Diana anymore. They still faced her way, but instead they seemed focussed on something far off in the distance, something they could never see. Or perhaps, something that only existed inside of herself. The truth. The truth of who she was. It was like the cage of Pyg's gas had been unlocked, at least enough for the real Lois to begin to squeeze through the bars.

And it was enough to allow Diana to start to encroach forward once again.

"Please Lois, remember," Diana implored as she softly crept forward. "Remember who you are. Remember what's in your heart. This isn't you. What you're doing here, it isn't you. Remember that. Remember the good in you. Remember your love. Remember _you._"

She was doing. She was, Diana was sure of it. Time had slowed, but each passing second made her more and more sure. But she had to take advantage of it. She had to get that cleaver away from Lois before the Pyg's cage rebuild itself again, before the coldness once again consumed Lois' mind.

But to do that, and to do so without risking Lois killing the Pyg, she had to break through. She had to make Lois give in, to accept the truth, to accept herself. Without the lasso.

Eventually Diana came to a stop, having arc to stand to Lois' side. But she had deliberately stopped just out of arms reach, intentionally so. Slowly, she dared to lower one hand, but consciously the one the opposite side to the lasso. The other remained outstretched, but no longer as before. Now, a gentle twist of her wrist, and the gesture was completely different.

Now she was offering Lois her hand. Now she wasn't telling Lois to stop. She was showing her she was there for her.

And as if on cue, Lois even turned to face her, physically taking a step on the turn. And even better, she moved the cleaver with her, away from Pyg's throat. Now it hung in the air, still fixed in Lois' hand, still hovering dangerously close to the base of his skull, but it was a sign. It was a good sign.

Almost there…

"Lois, please…" Diana implored again, tears at the edge of her own eyes. They were even more definite in Lois' now though. Down they were beginning to run down her cheeks. Now, a definite tremble was in Lois' legs, as if they were struggling to bear the weight. Her face had sunk, her hand starting to shake. And then, finally, it happened. Finally, her grip loosened.

And finally, with the most heavenly clang Diana had ever heard, the cleaver dropped harmlessly to the floor.

"…_Help me_…"

The words were soft, barely a whisper, but so raw, so begging. So wounded. Words that no compassionate being could ever ignore.

Diana certainly couldn't. Now she left no distance between her and Lois. Now she flung herself forward, just in time to catch Lois as she almost fell down to her knees in despair. Her arms wrapped around her friend, one gently holding her head to show her she was there to share the weight. Then, as she held her, as they embraced as friends, Diana gently wound the free end of the lasso around her, so that it immediately began to glow.

"Its okay, Lois. I've got you. You're safe. I can undo what he did. It's over. It's all over. You're all safe."


	11. 8,1: The Croaking Raven Doth Bellow

**8.1: The Croaking Raven Doth Bellow…**

**_Several Days Later_**

"I don't think you understand. This guy suffered some pretty severe brain trauma. That much current flowing through his cortexes, on top of the jolt of the physical impact and the nerve damage from the burns…? It's extensive. It's a miracle he's even alive."

"I don't care if he's a _fottuto _potato. I know what he did. I know what he's capable of. Is he still dangerous?"

"His mind is shot, officer! Shot! He won't be the same as he was before, but until he's more lucid than he's been since the event we won't know how broadly he's affected. How permanent the damage is. How its going to change him. But I can assure you that by there is no way on this Earth he will even be a threat again until long after we get him to the detent–"

The sound of sudden pain erupted around them. The thud, the slice. The squirt of fluid. The sudden out rush of air. The crash of his collapse.

Both she and her colleague were quickly lurching forward, desperately trying to grab for the weapon, but they knew it was already too late. Even as two sets of hands clutched at the surprisingly strong wrist, that much was obvious. Even as they both wrestled the jagged edge back down, slamming that arm hard against the metal bar of his gurney, they knew there was nothing they could really do.

But that didn't stop the horror, the revulsion. The feeling of intense nausea welling inside her at the look of Doctor Anselmo, collapsed against the side of the transporters rear, hands futilely clutching for his throat. His face, twisted in agony and fatal despair.

His blood, streaming clear from the gash that had just been gauged clean through his neck.

The sounds of his final breath would stay with her forever. The look in his eyes, almost magnified and intensified by his thick rimmed glasses, as the end took him. His head, falling to one side, already pale and lifeless, as his final strength escaped him. She would forever remember the sight of death.

And with that horror in mind, she once again looked down at the monster in her grasp. At László Valentin. Professor Pyg.

The beast who had almost ruined the lives of so many at that hospital… His injuries were indeed severe. The cuts and electrical burns that now scoured his head, leaving him as monstrous physically as internally, were one thing. The damage to his brain was something else. But then, a sociopath like him, that damage must have been extreme even before he took all that current through his skull.

Marsiglia's forces had found Valentin at that hospital, propped in a chair ready and waiting for them. They hadn't asked questions of Wonder Woman as to how she'd apprehended him, nor had the superhero stopped to offer any, instead focusing on getting her journalist friend the same kind of help so many who'd been in that building had needed. But it didn't matter either. All that matter was that Valentin was now in their custody.

Under heavy guard, there had been no choice but to first take him to medical care of his own; even a man whose guilt was as definitive as his wasn't to be so inhumanely executed as to be left to rot and die, not now the fight was over. But in the days between the chaos at the Ospedale di Sfortunato and now, Valentin's condition had been judged improved enough to take him away from the public hospital, away from the innocent citizens. He had been judged fit enough to be transferred to a secure facility where he could undergo his ongoing medical care under heavy lock and key.

It was a transfer that was meant to be quiet, smooth, even though a full escort of police officers had been put on the case. Not only the prisoner transport van, but heavy duty police SUVs running in front and behind, along with escort motorcycles in full convoy. Valentin was meant to be out of it in the back of the van, both because of the damage to his brain and the sedatives he was supposed to have been given before they loaded him into the transporter van.

But the corpse now at her feet was proof. He was far from out of it. As was the horrific sounds suddenly bursting from his very much conscious mouth.

"_Squeeeeee_he was _imperfect_! His _eyes! _His _bespectacled _eyes! _Squeeeeee_he was not worthy of a – _snort _– perfect societeeeey! Oh no no no no no no no! Pyg can make it all better! Pyg _has _made it better! Pyg has expunged imperfection! _Squeeeeeeeeeeee_!"

The sounds… The noises he made… The way he spoke… She hadn't heard him before, but this… This wasn't right…The damage, the damage to his brain… He wasn't just a sociopath, he was insane!

Even as he'd spoke, Valentin had continued to thrash with his body, the weight of both her and her colleague needed to pin him down, to stop him slashing out again with his weapon. The weapon that was actually the very handcuffs that had been meant to pin him down. Somehow, he'd managed to get them opened. She had no idea how, but he had. Handcuffs that had been put on his wrists to secure him down to the metal railings on each side of the gurney. Handcuffs which, when opened, contained one serrated edge.

An edge that had just been used to gauge open the doctor's throat.

It meant his weapon wasn't a blade they could force Valentin to drop. Instead, while her colleague held him fiercely, she battled to lock the handcuffs back tightly across the metal. Then, drawing them from her belt pouches, she made extra sure this time, she threw the cable ties around his wrists too, tying them up as tight as she dared without cutting off his blood flow.

Breathing heavily, at what felt like long last she finally climbed off him, suddenly feeling the urge to get as far away from the monster as she could in the small van. Even though doing so practically put her on top of the blood-soaked corpse…

But her colleague wasn't feeling the same. Horror was the preeminent feeling in her. In him, it was the rage. Which was why, even with Valentin still squealing like the animal he'd named himself after, he didn't back away. Face twisted in pure fury, the first punch slammed down ferociously into Valentin's jaw. Then another into his cheek bone. Another into his nose. Another. Another. _Another_.

It took the flying tooth to snap her out of the freeze hold of horrors. To make her remember the rule of law and the truth of justice. It took her that visual cue to finally leapt forward again. Immediately, she wrapped her arms tight around her colleague's torso, grabbing his stronger form as firmly as she could. But even then, he continued to resist.

To try to deliver yet more blows to the killer in their midst.

"Fosco, stop! _Stop!_" she begged. "Not like this! We can't like this!"

"It's less than this _macchietta di merda _deserves!" Fosco – _Sovrintendente_ Cordasco usually, but she had used his given name to try to break through to his humanity – called back. She couldn't disagree with his thinking. Lord knew she was feeling it too. But she had held onto enough lucidity to know this couldn't happen. "He deserves only death!"

"And then he'll be released to a hole in the ground while you take over his jail cell!" she tried to reason with him, still struggling to hold back his blows. "Sir, please! This monster will soon be locked away where no one will ever see him again. He will face justice. Never again will he be able to harm anyone like he did at the hospital. Like he has here. We can't let him escape that justice now!"

She hadn't said anything Fosco didn't already know. She hadn't really done anything at all that would change his mind. But she had resisted his primal rage enough to give his brain a chance to catch up to his anger. To buy enough time for his reasoning to break back through his hatred. She could feel it straight away as his body seemed to get slightly smaller, as his struggling died down.

A second later, she dared to finally let him go. The rage was still built up in him, desperate to break through. She could tell from how ragged his breathing remained. But he was also back in control. No more fists were flung. But, before he turned to look away, Fosco did spit down on Valentin's now battered face.

A face she found herself instinctively looking down at as Fosco moved away, frustration at failing the doctor bubbling away at him. The scarring, the remaining bandages, they were down joined by the blood, the missing teeth, the dented cheek bones. The unconsciousness of trauma.

_Now _the Pyg was out of it. But all too late. And all too violently…

"This is Cordasco," she suddenly heard from behind her, turning to see her senior officer in the Polizia Penitenziaria speaking into his radio. "To all officers. Doctor Anselmo is dead. Valentin broke free from his restraints and killed him before we could stop him. The prisoner has now been subdued, but only under the use of extreme force. But I want this _mostro _off of my van and to be someone else's problem as soon as possible. We do not stop, we do not slow down."

He could see her looking at him as he spoke. Under usual circumstances, even those may have been considered extreme instructions, potentially pushing the regulations beyond their limits. But these were far from usual circumstances. And she couldn't argue with that point. She, too, had been cooped up in here with the Pyg for far too long. Seeing that in her eyes gave Fosco all the encouragement he needed to seal the plan.

"What's our ETA?"

The answer that came crackling back was exactly what they wanted to hear. "Now. We're already here. Pulling up now."

And sure enough, the sound of the brakes gently squealing reached them, the feel of motion slowing down. The slight jolt of the stop. They had arrived. But still, something niggled at her. Something that didn't quite sit right. The secure facility… It was further away than this. It was too soon.

She looked up to Fosco, but before she could say anything the rear doors of the van were already being dragged wide open. The dark of the night reigned beyond, but lights still shone. Artificial. Wide ranging. Long, straight and distant.

This wasn't a prison. This was a private airport.

And there, not too far away at all, was the jet, looking warmed up and ready to go, just waiting for its passenger. And between and it, the SUVs. Not just their own either, not just the police. But people just as armed. People kitted out with flak jackets and assault rifles. Mercenaries. Criminals. Mafiosos.

_Bad guys_.

Her instinct was fast. Guarding such a dangerous man, she too was armed, the pistol hung at her hip. Reflexes sharp in the face of such people, her hands were fast dropping to it. Only for another to reach out and clamp on hers, holding them down and her gun with them. The shock was once again on her face as she gaped at Fosco's action. Couldn't he see who these people were…?

"Not now _Agente_ Borsa," he addressed her. His voice had gone oddly calm considering the state of him mere moments ago. The emphasis he placed her rank was also damning before he'd even said another word. "There's been a change of plan. We wanted the Pyg off our hands and away from our people. That's what these guys are here to do."

She still couldn't help but stare. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. What she was seeing. Their escort, both the bikers and those in the SUVs, were all pulled up around the van. She could see them out there. She could see them all with weapons at their sides. And she could see as not one of them took them out of their holsters. She could see as not one of these sworn, duly deputised agents of the law were doing their duty in the face of such blatant criminals. In fact, it was worse than that.

She saw as those officers stood by like a guard of honour and allowed one of the mobsters to stride right up to the van, two goons flanking him as protection with every stride. She saw as the mobster drew nearer to the prisoner they were meant to be guarding with their lives. The prisoner they were meant to be making sure could do no more harm. Which in her book, damn well included keeping him away from other bad men.

But then, as she finally recognised who this encroaching mobster was, it got even worse still. It was Domenico. The man they'd been hunting since his own escape from a prisoner convoy some time ago now.

Domenico _Bertinelli_.

Her eyes flashed back to Fosco beside her, but still he held her gun down, even in sight of the recognition in her eyes. He'd planned this… Damn it, he'd planned this! He knew Bertinelli would be here. He wanted this…! What was he _doing_…?!

"_Not now, Ofelia_. _Please._" he hissed at her under his breath so no one else would here, conspicuous in his use of her first name now. This time he was clearly asking as her friend. As the man she'd worked alongside for years now. As the man she trusted with her life. Uncomfortable, nervous, stoic, she was still all those things. But deep down, she also had trust. She just had to hope she was right to. She had to trust that Fosco new what he was doing.

Only then did she finally relent, dropping her hands away from her gun, allowing him to look away from her and for the two prison officers to stand side by side. Just in time for Bertinelli to arrive.

His two goons stopped, parking themselves either side of those van doors like they owned the place. The police officers around them clearly looked none too pleased with that arrangement, showing Ofelia this wasn't the full corruption she'd feared, but their acceptance of the situation was still unsettling. Bertinelli himself though, he kept on going, stepping right up to the van. Right up the steps and into its rear section. Right up to stand between the two of them.

The sneer on his smug face was nauseating as he paused there far too close for comfort, gazing over like the scene like a king in his castle. He was baby faced, youthful looking, but his face was starting to show the wears of stress and age, borne no doubt by the demise of his clan and the subsequent efforts to rebuild them from the very bottom of the dark underworld. His hair dark, beginning to be flecked with grey. Yet his eyes, they were still full of steel. A spark to match his smirk. And about all the warmth of an Arctic freezer.

"My, my, you have been having a time of it back here, haven't you," he sneered down his nose as he examined the scene. The blood stained, battered and bound Valentin, and the corpse of Doctor Anselmo. As he prodded and the foot of the Doctor's body with his own toe as if to check he was dead, Ofelia had to resist the urge to go back for her gun all over again. Fosco had _better _know what he was doing…

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Fosco firmly stated back. His voice was sheathed enough to give her hope too. To imply that he wasn't enjoying Bertinelli's company either. That he wasn't in this for his own gain. But then why…? "But enough toying around, Nico. We cut a deal because you said you could get this monster far from here without the burdens of red tape in the system. That you'd take care of him, and keep people safe. Are you a man of your word or not?"

_Take care of him_…? What was he suggesting…? She'd stopped Fosco from killing Valentin earlier. She'd seen the ahte in him, the rage. She knew all too well how easy it was to want an eye for an eye after all that Valentin had done these past few days. But the thought that was passing through her mind upon hearing those words… Surely Fosco hadn't hired Bertinelli, a man far from afraid to get his hands dirty, to kill the Pyg…?

It was her fear, but a fear soon answered. Fosco's finally question was a challenge no self-respecting mafioso would ignore. Sure enough, Bertinelli was soon raising to the bait.

"I did promise you, didn't I, Cordasco. And yes, my word is my bond. A tie even stronger than blood. And after all, that is why I am here, in the midst of all your lovely forces. I will take the dear Professor off your hands, officer. And I will take him far, far from here. Your province will soon be much safer without the hanging burden of knowing this man is still caged within its boundaries. Your people will be safer once we have taken him off your hands. And, also as agreed, your own personal compensation for your…_red tape_ is right here as well."

Take him away… Not kill him, but take him away. Far away. But while on the surface that sounded positive for the region, she couldn't help but focus on the bigger picture. Where would they be going? Why were they going there? And why was Bertinelli so keen to take Valentin into his own custody? It couldn't be good…

As he said the last part, Bertinelli stepped forward, but as he did so he brushed past Fosco. And as he did that, he slipped something the other man's way. It was almost like a well-rehearsed routine. A public handover designed to go unnoticed, but one which, this time, it seemed Bertinelli was making sure _did _get noticed. That she specifically noticed as her long trusted friend and superior took the envelope full of the bribe. She could see it in the envelope now in Fosco's hands. The reams of bank notes. Thousands of Euros worth…

"Sovrintendente Cordasco!" she blurted out, no longer able to hold her tongue. Fosco looked up at her, though in a jarring way as if having to tear his eyes from the money now in his hands. Across the way, Bertinelli barely even reacted. Instead, he continued to step forward, rounding on Valentin's gurney as if the sight was pure gold. "Need I remind you that this man is a criminal? One of the most wanted and hunted men of this country? That his family tried to poison the _entire world?!_"

"Ah, family. My dear Aunt Lucia, god rest her soul. Not I. Not I." Bertinelli had looked up then, but he had spoken so nonchalantly, as if her accusation was mere foolish conjecture instead of steeped in truth. Even worse, his eyes were soon dashing back to Valentin as if nothing more needed to be said. As if everything was already settled.

"Cordasco!" Ofelia pressed her point regardless, desperate to get through to her superior. "We cannot trust this man with the Pyg."

She knew it. Deep down, she could tell Fosco knew it. But she could also see something else there too. A fear in him she hadn't noticed before. A weakness. Almost as if this was more personal than he'd let on. The hospital… They didn't talk much about their families, but she knew his sister was a nurse… If she'd been one of those infected, one who'd suffered… If Fosco had that intimate brush with how devastating the Pyg could be…

"My dear…I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced…?"

Ofelia's gaze finally broke from Fosco as she now could only see his pain. Empathy was beginning to take hold in her. Understanding. Acceptance. But hearing that voice, she turned to face Bertinelli again. Still, she didn't offer him her name. She didn't particularly want him to know it. In the end, he had to carry on without it.

"My dear _officer_. I have no intention of letting this monster loose on these shores ever again. The people of this province, of the homeland, of Europe, of so many places. I'm here at the invitation of your own forces, to make sure those innocent lives are protected. To make sure these lands do not see a repeat of what happened at that hospital, and at the camps. I assure you none of those you serve will be in danger by turning the Professor over to me. And you know, deep down. You know just how poor the justice system is at keeping hold of monsters like this. Turning him over to me, it's the only way you can be sure the Italian people are safe. The crimes of my family shouldn't blind you to that. Don't let them. Instead, let me help you. Let me protect you all. Let me take him off your hands. Just as Cordasco has. It's the right thing to do."

Being lectured on the right thing to do by a mobster… It made her skin crawl. But instead, her eyes merely turned back to Fosco. To gaze into his pain. To suddenly feel the sense of suffering he felt. To feel the fear of it happening again. Of what it would be like if Pyg indeed broke free…

Her brain was still telling her no, but suddenly her heart was starting to tell her yes. And, lost in his pain, her heart was starting to win out. Yes, she definitely understood where Fosco was coming from now. It wasn't the greed. It wasn't corruption. It was fear. It was love.

And it wasn't just Fosco either. The corpse. The corpse of Doctor Anselmo, still laid where he had fallen, where he had savagely bled to death in almost an instant. The stark reminder of just how dangerous Valentin could be. Just how cold he was. And just how difficult it would ever be to truly keep him restrained…

It was like it was all suddenly dawning on her. A new understanding. And that understanding bore a weight. Suddenly, her shoulders felt heavy, her entire body numb. She could hardly believe she was thinking this, that she was doing it. But she did it all the same.

With a deep sigh of reluctant acceptance, she bowed her head. The ultimate symbol of submission. And then, as if to make matters even more clear, she stepped back and to the side of the van, representatively taking herself out of Bertinelli's way.

The smile spread across his face once again, but she could hardly bring herself to look at it. Nor as he raised one arm to gesture to his two goons below to come up to wheel away Valentin, still strapped to his gurney.

"You made the right call, my dear," Bertinelli said as those two stepped inside past her. "Your people are now safe."

But Ofelia could only look up at Fosco once again. At the pain in his eyes. At the fear. And at the corpse at her feet.

And she could only hope that, in taking such a drastic step to guard their own, they hadn't just doomed hundreds of distant others…

* * *

There was no more resistance. Only the spunky young woman had shown reluctance. The other pigs were all safely paid off. Now, even she was in their pocket. At least on this.

Already handily shackled to the wheeled gurney, it took only moments for them to get back beyond the lines of the _sbirro. _To get back among their own. The moment they had, his men were closing ranks, forming their own line. Their own barricade. It was the point of no return. The police had turned Valentin over to them. Now, if they changed their minds, they'd have to go through them all to take him back. Them, and their thousands of bullets.

The two goons paused under the lights of the jet, at the foot of the ramp and by the deepest and most protected of the SUVs, leaving the gurney stood there between them. Domenico was right by their side, marching them there. These people, they were all his. He owned them. He owned all of this. But it was all only the first step. The first part of the long, winding path to recovery. To payback.

To putting their family back on top.

Family. That was the word. That had always been the word. And it always would be. The cause. The origin. The future. The end. Family was everything.

And as if to prove the point, it was then that he finally stepped out of the car. Bumbling, oafish, stupid. He was a big lump useful only for muscle. But Ignazio was still his brother. And he was loyal at that. And for that, he would always be by Domenico's side. Even if he'd learned the hard way what his brother could and could not be trusted to do.

"Is that him? Is that the psycho…?" Zio chirped like an unzealous schoolboy as he hobbled his way to getting sight of the Pyg on his gurney. A while back, when their dear cousin had returned to their lives, he'd taken a bullet to his leg. It had still never healed properly.

"That's him," Nico almost properly confirmed, barely glancing back at his brother. Instead, he too was now looking down at the Pyg. Beside them, there was other activity. The bustle of his crew preparing their aircraft for launch. They had a long journey ahead of them after all. A journey they were finally ready for. Especially now they had their new friend.

Valentin was still out cold from the apparent beating the cop Cordasco had given him. No matter. He would wake up soon enough, and perhaps said beating would help him learn his place. Perhaps it would show to Valentin that he wasn't the one in charge here.

But it didn't matter that he was motionless, unconscious. Looking at that freshly scarred face, Nico could stare right through to the heart of the man. He could see that all those stories he'd heard circulating were true. And he could tell that, right now, he may have just made the best deal he'd ever made.

That thought alone brought the smirk to his lips.

"And the cops just let him go…?"

"It took some convincing, but I don't think we'll be having any trouble from them. As far as they're concerned, we're doing them a favour by taking him off their hands."

The rumble of distant engines firing up finally made Domenico glance back over his shoulder at said police. Sure enough, there was no assault coming, no move to take back their prisoner. Instead, their vans were moving away. Including the one bearing Cordasco and the insolent woman who wouldn't give him her name. Yes, it truly had been a good deal.

"But…But wouldn't that mean…? If they don't want him in theirs, are we sure we want him in _ours_?"

_Dio_, Ignazio could be slow! But he was family. Which was why Nico clap him on the shoulder instead of punching him in the face.

"Absolutely, we want him. We want him because he's exactly the kind of man we need for where we're going, and for what we're going to do."

"And we're going after her…? We're going to get her for what she did to us…? For what she did to the family…?"

"We're going to get her for betraying us," Nico nodded to Zio's forgetful idiocy. He'd told him the plan before. No doubt he'd have to tell him on the plane again. But this was their chance. The best chance they'd had in a long time. Word had reached them that the city's great protector had suffered. That he may even be out of the game. That at the very least he was injured with his eye of the ball. Now was their perfect chance. Especially now that they had their perfect weapon.

László Valentin. Professor Pyg. The sower of chaos, pain and despair in his mad pursuit of unattainable greatness.

By then, the goons around them were starting to move too. They already had their orders, so Nico hadn't had to signal it again. Those who were staying behind were getting the SUVs fired up and out of the way. The rest were starting to board the plane. The two muscle men who had accompanied him to fetch the gurney had its retractable legs furled, hoisting it and the Pyg up as if on a traditional stretcher as they began to carry him up on board too. Even the engines were starting to make sounds as if it was warming up.

It really was happening. It really was finally time. They'd had to work hard to get here, had to work damn hard to raise themselves and the family back up from the gutter. The Bertinelli clan had been beaten, discarded to the trash heap of history. They had been the last ones standing, and what little they had had left had been taken from them. Because of her, their own cousin. And because of her friend, the great _hero_. The one who hid behind the mask.

Only one thing had kept them going. One thing that had given Nico the strength and inspiration to rebuild their empire to this point. One thing that always drove him now. One thing that he would sacrifice everything else to get.

The Bertinelli's would have their revenge. Helena must suffer. The Bat must suffer. And now, he had a plan.

"Now come, brother, we need to get going," Nico instructed, practically pushing his brother with the arm on his back as they moved to make their own way onto the plane. "Before any hot shot with any bright ideas comes looking for us. And before anyone we haven't paid off starts asking questions about where the Pyg has gone."

"You'll get no arguments from me there," Zio answered. "This place is kinda losing its spark for me anyways… But Nico, I still don't get it… Why _him_? Why that pig fella…? He's seriously messed up, Nico. The guy gives me the _sanguinoso _creeps!"

Nico couldn't help but smirk again. He'd thought this through. He'd thought it through long and hard. And he knew that this was exactly what they needed. Now that they stood on the verge of finally heading to America's great city, nothing had changed that.

"Because Gotham is no ordinary city, brother. Its full of freaks and monsters. Helena, the rodent, that's what they deal in. If we want to make our presence felt there, we're going to need a monster of our own. And if we're going to finally get our revenge against our traitorous cousin and her Bat friend, then it'll be revenge best served…_perfectly_."

* * *

_**A/N:**_

_**And that's a wrap on the Pyg and the underworld!**_

_**Way back when he first came up, good old CrazyPhenom was in there to question why his usual mannerisms and madness weren't on display. Hopefully by now you can all tell why. Since he never came up in the DCAU and since the Clownverse is a continuation of that, I had the chance to play around with him a little. And this wound up being a kind of the end of his origin story, of how he got quite as messed up as he is. But after the damage he suffered at the hospital showdown with Lois... Well, let's just say that if he ever shows up again, those mannerisms might be a bit more on display!**_

_**And yes...those are the same guys from **_**Bloodlines_. If you haven't read it (_why not?!_) its still sat there on my profile should you wish to check it out. But the setting of the story and the fact the Clownverse is one cohesive machine meant I couldn't resist bringing them back into play. The pieces just fit too well together, especially as a way of leaving an open ending for the Pyg to tease wider universal events. I should say there's no current plans of writing Pyg and the Bertinelli's in Gotham, but five months ago there was no such plan for _To Lie In Straw Houses _either, so you never know. But right now, I've got other half done stories I need to finish._**

**_Right then, that's one side of the wrap up done. But where there's villains there's heroes too. And their final moments in the spot light are all coming up in Chapter 8.2!_**

**_Til then folks!_**

**_(Oh, and please feel free to leave me a review! Ta muchly!)_**


	12. 8,2: Where the Heart Is

**8.2: Where the Heart Is**

**_The Next Morning…_**

After a few days, she was really starting to get tired of this damn bed. But then, tired was the very word that was keeping her in it. Tired and…_sore_.

She'd hardly moved from it since she'd got to the hospital. Well, since she'd gotten to the _latest _hospital. She could have hardly made it out of the Ospedale di Sfortunato any quicker, at least not once they were finally ready to take her away.

And once she'd finally felt strong enough to let go of Diana. Once she'd felt _herself _enough...

But she still didn't. Not really. Not entirely. After what had happened… After what she had nearly done…

She had been drugged. Intoxicated. Manipulated. She hadn't been thinking clearly. Yet she had _felt _all of it. And she could remember it so very, very vividly. The cleaver, clutched tightly in her hand. The Pyg's throat at her mercy. And the desire to slice… The _need_ to slice…

The hate…The anger…The _lovelessness_…

She could remember it all. She could remember just how close she'd come to killing him, to destroying everything she held dear and everything that she believed in. She'd been out of control, yes, but it had still been her. Which meant that, no matter how deep down it was buried, that person holding the cleaver was within, had always been within. And was still within…

Damn, that wasn't a good thought. If it hadn't been for Diana… If she hadn't been reminded of her heart, her morality… If she hadn't put the walls back up…

It scared her. It scared her terribly. She'd been saved, she'd been brought back from the brink. But she'd stared into the abyss. And she didn't like what she'd seen staring back.

And that was why she'd hardly moved. Her thoughts, every waking moment, every dream or nightmare, was plagued by the memory of what she'd almost done. Not even endlessly comforting herself with the news reports of Pyg's capture could sooth her.

Of course, the body needed to heal too, even if it was her mind that felt most broken. The doctors were taking their time to ensure her system was completely flushed of the abhorrent toxins Pyg had pumped her full of. Not to mention all the cuts and bruises of the draining chase through that hospital that she'd had to endure. But she'd get up and run a mile if she didn't feel so broken...

But the blade hadn't swung. It _hadn't_. She hadn't killed the Pyg. She'd held off. She'd held off without the need for the lasso.

The blade hadn't swung. She had to remember that.

"Ms Lane, there's a visitor here to see you."

At long last she looked up, her eyes having focused on nothing but that abyss. Now she faced the doorway. Despite her insistence in requesting no special treatment, she'd been given her own room at the hospital, apparently as part of her healing process. She hadn't felt worthy of it, not when so many had suffered, but now there was at least one upside. The privacy for this moment. This special moment.

She saw the nurse first, of course, the kindly middle-aged woman who'd been looking after her since she got there. But it was the next face that truly lit up her soul. The goofy, bespectacled face of the boy scout farm boy. Dressed up in his suit and his best reporter's guise, he was awkwardly shuffling his way into the room, as if he didn't know what to say or how to even hold himself. But he still had that smile, the smile at just seeing her again. And that was enough.

"Smallville…" Lois barely whispered under her breath at the sight of him. She didn't feel like smiling, but one still creased at the edge of her lips. Clark. Clark was _here_. The very same Clark who she had clung onto so dearly to remember her love, to remember herself. The anchor that had allowed Diana to save her. Her Superman. He was here. He had come for her.

If it could, her very heart would have jumped for joy. As it was, her whole body would have to do.

It must have taken every bit of restraint that he had to stop from using his super speed to race to her side, conscious of the watching nurse. Almost out of reflex, a much-needed gesture of love, Lois had moved to fling herself from the bed and to his arms. Obviously still worried for her health, Clark wasn't about to let her. Slowed down by the aches and pains, she'd barely even managed to sit upright before he was on her, at the side of her bed. Sitting there with her with an almighty creak of bed springs. Then, for a second, their eyes looked, the moment holding time itself at bay. A second later, both of them reacted.

Both flung themselves into each other's arms.

She didn't hold him too tight, because she didn't feel like she could right now. But she held him tight enough to have meaning. To show just how much she refused to let go. Not again. Never again. Never again would she let herself forget. Clark _was _her anchor. His hold had kept her from that abyss. He was the key. She couldn't let him go.

As for Clark, his hold was gentle. Loving, but almost nervous. She knew he'd always had nerves about his power, about what damage he could do with even the merest mistake or lapse of control. But this wasn't those nerves. This was his concern for her, over the suffering she had already endured. Over the damage she may be left with still. And over doing anything to exacerbate them.

The goofy boy scout indeed. But, to her, that was all a part of her charm. Now more than ever. And what made her feel human enough again to remember that not only could she love, but she also had humour.

"Easy, Kent. Not in front of the nurse. Whatever would she think?"

She'd waited to say it, not wanting him to break away too soon. She'd said it in jest too, and it had exactly the desired effect. Because Clark suddenly broke away, already blushing, embarrassed by the mere implication of…_impropriety_. Quickly, he was looking up at the nurse by the door too.

"I didn't…" he stammered. "I wasn't…"

The nurse, though, clearly saw the joke. Her own laugh was melodic, if not quite infectious. "I'll give the two of you some privacy. I'll be outside if you need me."

And with that, she turned on her heels and walked away, pointedly pulling the door too behind her. But before she disappeared from view, she even more obviously tipped Clark the wink, as if suggesting he could now do whatever he wanted. Clearly in on the joke, it was an act that made the farm boy blush all over again. Lois' humour was definitely still alive. That was a good sign.

She wasn't entirely lost. She remembered. Hope was still alive.

The faintest of laughs even erupted from her lips, a laugh that made Clark suddenly forget his embarrassment. Instead, he looked down at her again, that boy scout concern rapidly back in his eyes. Her laugh had helped remind her of who she'd been before all this, but it had reminded him of what had happened to her during it.

"Are you alright?"

His question was simple, yet clearly from the heart, and clearly so honest. On another day, in another age, with another man, her answer might not have been. But with Clark… These days, since he finally told her his strongest truth and since she'd confessed she'd known all along… They had no secrets.

"Not really," she admitted. The words weighed heavily, yet at the same time released a great weight from her shoulders. These last days she'd been in torment with her thoughts, her memories. She'd been left wallowing in what she'd nearly become. Now, that he was with her, she finally had someone there with whom she could share the burden. And a problem shared… "No. No, I'm not alright. I'm not. I came so close to the edge Clark. So close. And if I didn't have someone to act as my lifeline… I would have fallen in Clark. I would have fallen in."

"And I'm glad she was there," Clark replied. "Diana is always there for us. Even when I can't be."

"Yeah… She helped too." Lois spoke softly still, and her touch matched it. He was still within reach. Gently, her hand reached out to touch onto his. She didn't need to actively say anymore. The touch alone said all the words that needed to be said.

It was Diana who had talked her back from the brink. But it was memories of Clark that had truly saved her. Without Clark…

He was her lifeline. Her saviour. Her Superman.

But such thoughts… No. She couldn't keep wallowing. She couldn't keep doing this to herself. She needed her way back, to find a way back to life before all of this. To normality. Ironically enough, she needed to forget.

Changing the subject, Lois asked, "How are things at the Planet? Did I make the front pages?"

Clark's feelings were clear, so often worn on his sleeve. He was clearly disappointed that Lois had only shared so much, but she needed it to be baby steps. More would come, but she needed time. She needed this. And, as he answered, he could clearly recognise that too. "For three days straight. Even now its only a few pages in. One of our own helping to foil a plot like this –_ publicly_ – gave Perry plenty of chance to sell papers."

"And send gift baskets," Lois fondly said, looking briefly to the basket of fruits and flowers that had been brought to her room with Perry's name firmly on its label. But then her eyes turned back to Clark, the playfulness finding its hold in her again. "Although I'm not so sure about his choice of reporter to cover it…"

"Then I'm actually relieved it wasn't me who got the job," Clark countered her quip aimed at his expense. "He chose Ron for the lead story. I had to beg him to let me come here to be by your side. Even offered to take it as unpaid leave. Eventually he gave me the UN angle instead so I could at least be close by."

"Then what are you doing here?" Lois returned, when she was really very glad he was there. "Shouldn't you be out there with them?"

But Clark merely stood back, pointing to his ear. A reminder if ever she needed one of just how Super he could be. "Don't worry. I've been listening in on every word since the latest session began. But I figured I had more important places to be."

He smiled at her, once again reaching out to take hold of her hand. And in the comfort of his grasp, his sweetness, she could only smile back. Mocking him again could follow afterwards. But it was also a moment that proved the levels of distraction and wear on her mind. Because she didn't instantly pick up on the other key thing that he'd just said. The thing that all of this had been about from the get-go...

The UN. They were in session again. Right in the aftermath of all the chaos and destruction that Pyg had so nearly wrought. Chaos and destruction brought down hardest on those most vulnerable, those fleeing the pain and hopeless and despair of their homes in search of a better future. Those who were asking for help. And those who were being denied.

This had all begun as she had tried to help Diana find a way to give those Nairomian refugees hope again. And if the UN were now back in session…

Her room came with its own TV, but she'd barely had it on since she'd been there, least of all for the news. Now though, she was suddenly scrambling, pulling herself from Clark's hold and practically throwing the bed covers everywhere as she dove for the remote. As soon as it was finally nestled in her hand, she was fast turning on the TV for any footage she could get.

And there it was. As soon as the screen lit up and the right channel was found, she was instantly hit by the sight of the Catanian basilica. By the crowds of gathered journalists by its stone steps. By the blazing headline embossed over the footage declaring the new gathering to finally try and resolve the migrant crisis now in session.

And then, best of all, the sight of her. The sight of her once again walking up those steps, just as she had when all of this had begun, way back when, what now felt so long ago. Only now she walked with confidence in every stride, with her purpose and passion now underlined by people, experience and knowledge. Knowledge of what _needed _to be done. And better yet, the crowds around her seemed to know it too. Because now they didn't appear to be barraging her with questions of hypocrisy. Now they were respectfully watching their champion among them. Watching the champion of those who had no voice. Of those who would otherwise have been left abandoned at the mercy of a madman. Of the one who had saved them all at that hospital.

The woman who was now marching back in front of all those diplomats, ready to save the Nairomians all over again.

She'd let go quick to grab the remote, but suddenly Lois was instinctively grabbing Clark's hand all over again. The warmth of his touch instantly brought her comfort, as did that surprised yet loving look on the boy scout's face that came every time she took him in her grasp.

Hope. Hope was what the Nairomian's needed. Now as much as ever. Because the torments weren't over. Not until they had hope again. A feeling Lois knew all too well. And while for her the man now in her grasp was the ultimate symbol for hope, for them, for all those migrants, that woman climbing those steps was their greatest hope.

Diana of Themyscira. The Wonder Woman. Their saviour.

And their last, best hope.

Staring deeply, Lois even felt her eyes starting to moisten as she saw Diana's confident, determined stride as she once again prepared to throw herself into the lion's den of selfish, human politics. And love was definitely in Lois' heart again now. Love for Diana. For Clark. For the Nairomians. For all of them. For everything they stood for. A love that gave her hope that things would one day be okay again.

A love so strong that Lois, still staring at that screen, could only mutter one thing, barely under her breath.

"Go get 'em, girl."

* * *

"Assembled delegates, members of the press, Ladies, Gentlemen, and all peoples of the free world who hear my words. I'm sure by now you have all become aware of the events that transpired just a few miles from where we now stand in the last few days. What happened to the people of this nation, and to those who came to it looking to escape a life of desolation. And I'm sure such news has served to harden opinions, derive whole new arguments and cause more debates in this house. But I am here to tell you, there should be no need for debate.

"Gender, ethnicity, disability, orientation. What we like, what we don't like. What makes us laugh, what makes us cry. All are functions of what makes us who we are as individuals, a collective sum of their parts. Yet in this world we live in, every one of those facets is being attacked from one corner or another. By people we know. By people we've never even met. By the vocal few, or the subversive many. Often subconscious, sometimes malicious.

"Yet we know. As a people, _we know_, things must change. As a people, we speak openly of the great importance of the strive towards equality. Even those who don't truly believe it. And it is in times like this when we see what that talk is truly worth. Not only when it affects our neighbours, our family, our friends, but when it affects the lives of complete strangers, from half a world away. If we want equality, true equality, it has to apply to all. If we want to end prejudice, it cannot stop at the end of the road, on the coast of an island. At a border. We have to make sure our words aren't empty. And now is the time to prove it.

"What matters is our choices. Our actions. Not our genetics, not what brings us joy, not even how we think. But what we do. What we say to others. What we _do _for others. And now, I implore you. We _must_ do something for these people.

"My people live for a very _long _time, ladies and gentlemen. They have seen so much of the course of this world. The steps it has taken, and the steps it has yet to tread. We know where you have been, how great strides have been taken. But the path is one on a narrow ledge. And it is one that is so easy from which to fall.

"Isolationism. Separatism. Nationalism. Self-entitlement and possessiveness driving greed and cruelty. And a jealousy that only perpetuates such things. An inability to share and co-exist because of fears that things may change. Sometimes rightly in times of great evil. But others not. Because not everyone is the same. Leaving selfishness and fear that leads to only one thing; hate. A hate that breeds anger.

"This is a cycle endemic of Man's World. A cycle of war and prejudice. A cycle that, despite some noble efforts, is yet to be broken.

"Centuries ago, my mother led the Amazon people to the isolation of Themyscira, closing us of to the rest of the world. The ultimate of borders. In part to escape such cycles. To find our own peace. And in the centuries that passed, to judge Man's World from our highest of towers.

"But these last few days have taught me the lesson even the Amazon's have failed to learn. Only together can we achieve world peace. All of us. We may find peace in our isolation, but to do so is to ignore the cries for help of others. To take our own prosperity at the expense of others no less deserving. Just as the Amazons have done for centuries, by refusing to help Mankind escape its cycle of hate and war. And just as you are all at risk of doing now…"

The pause. The deep, thoughtful pause. The pause as she looked to the skies. Beyond the walls. Out to those camps. To those people…

_"The Nairomians. They have come to this land seeking help. Seeking to escape prejudice and pestilence and poverty. They have come here to seek the opportunity to live. To truly live, not just to be alive. To deprive them of that simply because of where they were born… Being born someone less privileged is not a crime. It should never be a crime. And yet, surreptitiously, we seem to be treating it as one._

_"They have come to us asking for help, and we put them in cages. In squalor and encampments barely more than a prison at worst, a refuse centre at best. We have discarded them, abandoned them as we waste time in debate and councils, locked in words that are as cyclical as the wars. We created the environment where sociopaths like Valentin could operate unnoticed. Where criminals like Mišel Breèko could treat innocent people like commodities. Where these people could suffer, because we refused to help them. All because we couldn't accept that they came from somewhere else._

_"I was lucky enough to get the chance to walk among them before the atrocities of László Valentin came to light. To see what was in their hearts. And I can tell you now, I saw only love. And a desperation for hope. For a chance. I saw a people who were noble, honest, brave and hardworking. A people with good in their hearts. A people who had escaped an environment of torment, an environment that could have taken them to a path far darker, yet it was a path they had rejected. They showed to me they were a people who were deserving of that hope._

_"And I cannot see a way we can stand here and call ourselves good people if we refuse to give it to them._

_"The world _is _changing, ladies and gentlemen. Some lands faster than others, but the change is coming. It may be years, decades before it truly takes hold, but we cannot pretend it doesn't exist. Especially as it stares us in the face. Especially when a group brave and desperate people come asking for our help._

_"And we are left with questions. A proposition to test who we are. To judge the barometer of our moral compasses. A question I put to you all now._

_"Are our worlds ready to change? Or are they still so small, their border walls so thick, that we can't let anyone else in? Will we learn from what Valentin was able to do so close to where we stand, or will you shirk back away and fail these people asking for our help? Will we let our talk of inclusivity be genuine, or will it all just be fallacious propaganda? Will we break the cycle of prejudice, or will they hide behind the invisible borders of ancient history?_

_"Will we help these people? Or will you abandon them to their fate once again?_

_"And, from my heart, I implore you. Speak with yours. And make the right choice. For your fellow men and women, children even. Make the right choice…"_

_…_

The click of the button froze the image on the screen at that moment once again. Just as it had so many times already now. Just as it would do so many times more until she could make sense of it all.

It was all over. Days had gone by since she had once again stepped into that Basillica, into the lion's den of the council session. A session now completely dismissed. Over. And yet, frustratingly, infuriatingly, heartbreakingly unresolved.

She took a moment's pause herself, trying to get her emotions back in check. But it was hard, it was so very hard. Especially as every second she was sat there was another where the migrants were still stuck in those camps. Where she had failed…

And just as it had been so many times already now, the thought of that failure was enough to force her to action. There had to be _something_ she had said. Or something she hadn't said. Some point she hadn't gotten across that would have made them see, made them understand. Made them agree… There had to be some way she could help those people!

All her strength, all her power, all her Gods and all her connections. All of it useless. Never had she felt smaller, never had she felt more helpless. Because, in the systems of the world, all her gifts counted for naught now. They had saved these people from the Pyg. But only through governed action could they be saved from the squalor. And for that, she couldn't act alone.

Yet that was where she stood, at least among the council. Well and truly alone. For they had rejected her pleas for help, for the nations of the world to take these people in to their hearts. All the nations of the world that could make a difference. Even her own Mother on Themyscira. All still too set in their ways. In their histories. In their borders.

They had abandoned those begging them for help after all.

Finally, she released the rewind button, and the footage on the screen once again began to show her stepping up to the dais, about to give the speech for the umpteenth time. Desperation. She was desperate to see where she had gone wrong. How she could put it right.

She had to put it right…

"It wasn't anything wrong with your speech, Princess."

Diana almost leapt out of her skin. She'd thought she was alone! She'd thought she had the entirety of Wayne Manor all to herself. After all, ever since she'd returned from Italy she'd felt like she needed to be alone. Bruce was, as far as she'd known, still meant to be in recovery from the surgery to save the use of his arm. After the recent tragedies, after the pains, he'd recently made good on his promise to give her her own key to this place. A huge empty house, it had seemed perfect. And, she had to admit, oddly comforting to just be back within its walls. Almost as if the building itself were giving her the embrace she needed right now, while he could not.

But she'd thought wrong. Practically flying she stood up so fast, Diana was quickly on the spin, looking beyond the sofa and across the giant living room, out towards the door. Her heart almost skipped a beat. Because there he was. Alfred, as ever, at his side having clearly just brought him home from the clinic. Arm in a sling, but it didn't matter; he was still the picture of strength, of compassion, and of companionship. He was everything she needed right now.

And, with her emotions shot by the despair, it meant she just couldn't help herself.

"Bruce!" Diana breathed instinctively. And then, the next second, she was scrambling. Leapfrogging over the sofa, she was quickly running, racing to him. Racing to embrace him… He braced, twisting himself clearly to get his healing arm out of her way. A good job too, because she wasn't holding back.

Quickly he was in her arms, her head immediately burying itself into his torso. She'd thought the Manor had been a comfort blanket. This… This was something else. Back at the start of all this, when she had first met Amara and Walif, she had realised the key to all of this was love.

And, for her, that was true now more than ever. Especially as she felt his good arm wrap around her too.

"I'll, err, just go and make sure the car is properly parked in the garage, Sir."

Alfred's voice had come from somewhere behind her, but all she could see was Bruce's rugged chest. Still, she didn't need to see the look the old man was no doubt giving Bruce. She knew Alfred was making an excuse to leave them alone, and she was thankful for it. Still, the sound of rustling papers did catch her attention, finally making her break from Bruce just enough to peek. To see the file of papers Alfred had pointedly left on the table by the door before he'd gone. But she wasn't thinking about them for long.

"It'll heal," Bruce said, snapping her away from them as he gestured to his shoulder. Her eyes now locked back up onto his. She hadn't even asked the question. In all honesty, she hadn't even begun to think of it. Yet he'd known it would have been the first thing she'd ask once she'd managed to get her mind in order. Typical Bruce. "A few more days in the sling to ensure the surgery takes, but it'll heal. I'll be back out on the streets in no time."

The smile came to her, a smile of relief. She needed to hear some good news. But while the sentiment was genuine, her heart still weighed heavy. He could clearly see that too. Or maybe he didn't even need to see it. Maybe he just knew.

"It wasn't your fault, Princess. No matter how many times you watch that recording, that's not going to change. It wasn't your fault."

Now she did finally pull back. Her hands still rested comfortingly on his chest, but she moved back to see. To look him straight in the eye. She could see how serious he was. He was leaving no room for doubting that. But she also knew what her heart said. There was no smiling anymore. Her heart said she'd failed them.

"They rejected everything I said," she muttered, vocalising her failure. Every syllable, she could feel her eyes moistening, the break in her heart growing wider yet again. "The UN council, the nations, the people… Even my mother was unswayed when I begged Themyscira to help. And yet I know in my heart that this is wrong. We cannot just abandon the Nairomian's like this… Hera, Bruce… The world…the _worlds_ we fight every day to protect… They cannot really be like this? They can't be this…this _heartless_ to people so in need!"

For a long moment, he only looked at her. His blue eyes staring deep into her own. Statuesque. Then, all he did was reach out. His one good arm clasped gently onto her shoulder, yet with a firmness to it too. A sign of comfort. A sign of empathy. A sign of honesty.

"Diana, you are too good for this world," he eventually said, speaking slowly to emphasise every word. "You always have been. The politicians, the citizens, they know. The future, the direction the human race is taking. They know. Your dream, your vision… Good people like you fighting for it makes it inevitable. But now, _today_… History, the old ways; it takes a long time to let go. For things to change. For people to change. Even when they know what's right. Even when perfectly laid out before them. Diana, what you want, its beautiful. The acceptance, the openness, the unification of us all. It's a beautiful dream. One they do share. But the world isn't ready. None of them are ready. They're still in the darkness of the shadows. They need more time before they can step into your light. They were never going to let the Nairomians stay."

The droplet, she could feel it now, halfway down her cheek. Because she could feel it in her heart. Blaming herself, it had been a comfort of sorts. It made her think there was hope. A false hope…

"Then what do we do?" she practically whimpered, the weight on her chest now crushing. "Bruce, what do we do? If the world won't help them… These people deserve the chance to _live_… To truly live…"

Once again, his first reaction was to pause. To just be there with her. Normally, that might have been enough. But not today.

But Bruce wasn't done. As slowly as he had placed it, he took his hand from her shoulder, then turned, taking a step away. Diana's heart leapt backwards out of primordial fear, but he only took that one step. The step towards the table beside the door. Towards the file of papers Alfred had so pointedly left there before departing. Turning back, Bruce now help ground, but he held out those papers at arm's length, clearly handing them to her. Diana's reaction was slow. His following words sped them back up.

"The world might not be ready Princess, but it doesn't mean no one listened to what you had to say."

Hand almost trembling, Diana slowly reached out, but her eyes were almost glued on his. Yet they gave nothing away. Only when she felt the tan coloured file nestle in her grasp did she finally look down, tearing the blank cover sheet open so fast it almost tore.

And straight away she saw it. There was a lot of text printed on the front sheet, a lot she barely even glanced at. But there was the heading. Large print, bold, staring her in the face. The heading that said so much. The heading that suddenly allowed her to hope again.

_"THE QUEEN AUDREY SAFE HAVEN FOR MIGRANT REFUGEES"_

Diana's free hand suddenly clasped to her mouth as she almost exclaimed in uncontrollable release. Those words, those few simple words… All her pent up fear, desperation, sadness… All of it suddenly burst. All replaced by a new hope. All because of those words. Breathing getting heavy, she quickly looked back up to Bruce again, unable to speak. But he still had words to say.

"No government, no coalition of governments may have acted on your words Diana, but you still have many friends. You still inspire so many people. And when you speak, so many listen. There's a consortium, a group of wealthy benefactors, who have arranged for the purchase of several acres of land. Kasnian land. The Kasnians haven't forgotten all that you'd done for them over the years. They might not be able to help as a nation, but they've agreed that the land the benefactors buy can be turned into a safe haven for all refugees who gain the Wonder Woman's blessing. There'll be limited space, but it should be large enough for the Kasnians. It from there… If it's a success, it may be able to help others too. But there were two conditions. For one; the migrants take responsibility for building the colony, for maintaining their community. For working the land and growing their food. For earning their own way in life. The benefactors' donations will supply the means. The Kasnians will give the community special citizenry status. And over time, as the community grows, as it intersects and develops with the locals, the dream will come closer to reality. Diana, this isn't full integration. This isn't the light. But the shadows are brightening."

The tears, there were more on her cheeks now. She could feel them. But they weren't tears of pain. Not anymore. They were tears of joy.

"And the other…?" Diana just about managed to rediscover her voice. "You said two conditions…"

"They all wanted you," Bruce replied. "The Kasnians, the benefactors. They'd all only be part of this if you were too. As administrator, overseer, champion. The want the Wonder Woman who inspired it all."

Diana was nodding without even needing to think of it. A cause so noble, for a people so deserving… Not only could she never refuse it, she wanted it too. But in that moment, that was the limit of her reaction. Because she had just noticed something else.

The papers in her hand… She had been so focused on the heading at the top that she had almost missed the list of signatories at the bottom. The names of all the benefactors involved. Scores of them. Many she recognised. Including friends from the diplomatic corps. Including some of the wealthiest people on the planet. But right at the very bottom, there was one name that stood out above all others. A name with a title that made it clear he lead the group. That his was the voice that had brought them all together. And, she knew without it needing to be said, his was the voice that had done all of this. That had made it all possible. This was the name of the man who had given her hope again. Who had given the Kasnians hope again…

_Bruce Wayne_.

She was moving before she even knew it. She couldn't help herself. Suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions, the gap between them was simply too much. Once again, Diana was hurling herself at him. Once again, she wrapped him into her arms, her head pressed tightly against his torso. And once again, she felt him wrap his good arm back around her too.

He'd done it… Where the citizens of the world had failed, where the Amazon's had failed, where _she _had failed, he alone had found a way. Just as he always did.

Finally, she managed to look up at him again, into the eyes offering her a warmth no one would have ever believed lived behind his famous cowl. "You did all this from your hospital bed…?"

Her smirked. The immodest smirk only Bruce could get away with. "In all fairness, Alfred helped a little. With this shoulder, I needed someone to hold up the phone…"

And then the most wondrous thing of all…he made her laugh! Just minutes ago, she'd have never thought it would be possible again. Yet now, she couldn't hold back the chuckle. The one they shared.

Hera, she loved him…

Once again, though, she allowed her head to nestle into his chest, to feel him close. It felt good. "Thank you, Bruce. Thank you…"

He merely held her, kissing the top of her head as he did. In that moment, there was nothing but each other. But then, he did speak again. Barely a whisper, the breath of his words brushing her scalp. "You know, it wasn't why I did it, but there is another upside to all this…"

She didn't want to move away from him, but she did tilt her head and eyes as much as she comfortably could to look back up at him as she made an inquisitive noise. "Oh? What's that…?"

"Well, not to sound selfish…" he gently began, "but as the chair of the benefactors, Bruce Wayne will also need to be heavily involved in the project too. Especially during its inception. Which means he and Diana of Themyscira are about to become very publicly associated. And with such an association established…"

He trailed off, but he didn't have to say more. Once again, Diana could put the pieces together. And once again, they were pieces that made her heart leap with joy. Personal this time. Selfish may be. But joy all the same.

For so long now, she and Bruce had to live their lives in secret. To protect the identity of Batman, it had been too risky for his public face to be seen in any romantic situation with Wonder Woman. At least, more than just that dance in Paris. It made it too plausible that people might start to put the pieces together, especially in Bruce's paranoid mind. But, two people working so closely together to help these refugees… Two people in a situation of caring, of empathy… Even people who may have been viewed from the outside as unusual bedfellows, the possibility of them growing close to one another wouldn't be deemed unreal…

Not only had Bruce changed the lives of the Nairomians, but at the same time he had found a way to give them a life together beyond the walls of the Manor, beyond the Justice League… To give _them_ a shot at a normal life. As he had given the Nairomians a shot at a prosperous, healthy, and happy one.

He had found a way. Hera, he always found a way.

She could only collapse her head deep into his chest all over again, but there was now even less holding back the tears of joy than before. Joy at the thought of what this meant to the Nairomians. Joy at the more selfish thought of what this would mean for them.

And then, the irony suddenly hit her. An irony she could only enjoy...

Professor Pyg had set out to end what he saw as the weakness of love. And there were still many things wrong in this world. But now, in that moment, Diana had seen love's greatest strength. She had seen it find a way where nothing else could. And she had seen what the world could become, if only it could embrace it…

Something that, she personally, was most definitely going to do. She didn't take her hands of Bruce, and she certainly didn't let him take his hands of her. But she did slide them up, wrapping one around his shoulders as the other came to a gentle rest on his cheek. And then she pulled him in close to her. And then she kissed him, deep, passionately.

And when they finally broke, still in his hold, she said the words that Pyg would have so despised to hear anyway, and the words that now meant everything to her. Words she spoke with all her heart. And words she would mean for forever and a day.

"I love you…"

* * *

**_Several Days Later_**

The squeak of the breaks, the hiss of the hydraulics, and the bus was pulling up to a stop. But truth be told, its passengers had all stood long ago. All to race to the windows. To get the better view. Ever since they first saw the land, since they'd first saw the signs. And now, there it was. Plain as day, right before their eyes.

The Queen Audrey Safe Haven for Migrant Refugees.

Their new home.

It was barely more than a large field right now, but that wasn't what every one of them was seeing. It wasn't what each of those on the bus were so keen to stare at. Material was scattered around, huge trucks bringing in the materials and equipment to start putting up 'flat pack' buildings and hovels. Farm tools scattered around the site, ready for them to start working the land. Piping delivered, ready to be laid to develop irrigation and provide water. Tents were being put up too, temporary shelters until the rest was in place. And all of that was just for starters. Yet while things looked bare for now, it also all looked clean. Cared for. A far cry from the fenced-in abandoned shipping containers of before. An embodiment of what they were all seeing from the bus.

The future. Possibilities. The home this place would become, with some hard work and loving care. But that was something they were ready to give. Because of what this represented.

Hope. After having to fight so hard and go through all they had to escape the life of torment, the sight of that field brought hope.

As they were called off the bus, it wasn't by an officious enforcement type. They weren't herded out like cattle, or dragged out like prisoners. They merely stepped off, like people on a bus. Like people, equals, going home.

They were almost the last ones off, hanging back towards the end of the queue. After all, with his missing leg, it was more awkward for Walif than most to get down those steps. But they were no less keen. Finally, she helped him to stand. Determinedly as ever, he walked out on his crutches, but she was there with him every step of the way. And then, eventually, they were down those few steps. Then, almost in perfect unison, their feet touched down on the new ground as they took their first step into their new home.

And in that moment, Amara could only stand there, closing her eyes and taking in the deep, deep breath through her nose. Taking in the air, the aromas, the feel of the place. It was all so calm, so clean, so peaceful… As she opened her eyes again it was at first to look at the sky, so blue and giving. The white clouds lining it. The twittering birds playing through its hues. Then she looked to the grounds, the green, green grasses. Slowly, she dropped to her haunches, pulling a few blades clear of the earth. Clutching them tightly in her hand, she raised them to her face, once again taking in a deep breath, taking in the smells. To experience the land that would now be home.

And it felt good.

"The land, it looks fertile, lush. The soils rich. The waters accessible. Yet the ground firm for building. This is a good place… Our people, we have a chance here. The chance we always sought…"

At that, Amara raised back up to her fullest height, but looked back to Walif. He was gazing out across their new lands, across the 'Safe Haven'. At their people, their fellows from the bus, already stepping out to explore, mingling with the other bus load that had already arrived. At the charity workers making this all possible, actively putting things in place so they could have that chance… But Amara, all she really needed to see was him.

"Anywhere would be good so long as we're together, my love," she replied to him. The last word was still so poignant for her after what had happened. Somehow, it felt like it now carried more weight than it ever had before. It was then that she finally dropped those blades of grass, freeing her hand to caress his cheek instead. "But this is a place to be thankful for. And I shall be thanking Wonder Woman and her friends every day for what they have given us. What she did for us."

Now it was Walif's turn to reach out. Balancing himself on one crutch, it freed his other arm to wrap around her shoulder, letting him pull her gently in so he could kiss her atop her forehead.

"As will I," he said tellingly. "As will I. Now come on, my love. Let's go see our new home!"

And with that, they kissed again, before jointly moving off towards that field, into the haven, into the hive of activity. But every step, Amara's mind was focussed on the future. On what might be. On what their lives might possibly become. On hope.

And on their love. A love they had so nearly lost. But a love they had managed to save.

They were truly on their way, on the right path. Thanks to the kindness of strangers, thanks to those select few who hadn't given up on them when they cried for help, they now had a chance.

Perfection… A word that had hung over her over the last days… A word that had almost destroyed her, destroyed all of them. Yet here, in this field full of nothing but crates and trucks and tents…

This was hope. This was a chance. This was love.

_This_ was perfection…

* * *

**_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ..._****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ..._****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ..._****_... ... ... _****_... ... ... _****_... ... ..._**

* * *

**_A/N:_**

**_And so here we are, the final curtain. Exactly eight months to the day since I was tasked with this story, it is finally complete!_**

**_ Back at the start of all this I said I'd let you know what the event prompts I was given way back when were. Well here they are:_**

Request Option #1 (a bigger idea, such as a fanfic that's over 1,500 words): Bruce stands up Diana on Valentine's day, hurting her feelings. He feels horrible about it especially since she won't talk to him now. He tries to make it up to her, proving to her how much he loves her.

Request Option #2 (a smaller idea you'd like just as much): Bruce can't go another day without telling Diana that he loves her…which just so happens to fall on Valentine's day.

**_I may have gone a little over on that word count...Not to mention twisted that brief!_**

**_Now of course, if you have read lots of my stuff, you know by now that I can't do fluff pieces, despite the fact that's where these briefs were pointing. So when challenged to write something for Valentine's Day... Well, what else can I do but twist that too?_**

_**Knowing I needed a villain I stumbled around for ages until suddenly remembering Professor Pyg's real name - Valentin. And it was in that realisation that the story was born. Pyg was the villain, and to make it interesting and different, I knew it had to be Diana facing him, not Bruce. But how to make that work when she's so much stronger than him? Simple. Never have them actually face to face, in the same room. The Wrath of Khan trick. But then, who could Pyg threaten? It had to be his experimentations for perfection, its his modus operandi, but he couldn't be drawing too much attention to himself, it had to be kept small (yet somehow big) and feel very personal. For both plot, tone and Diana's arc. So it needed people that wouldn't be missed, yet the homeless in a big American city felt too easy, too done before. But with the European migrant crisis in the news, not to mention events at the Southern US border... The pieces fell into place, and it meant I could do a story that could try to say something too (while trying not to be too overly political), as well as please a certain someone. **__**And of course, considering what day the event fell on, the basis of the whole event, the place these characters are in and a big plot point of the whole Clownverse, it also all needed to revolve around love. Et viola... To Lie In Straw Houses came to be.**_

_**And just to tidy up the loose end of how any of that links back to the prompt...i**_**_t was Option #1._**

Bruce stood her up, because due to the surgery he couldn't be by her side during the migrant crisis.

He feels horrible about it because he's Bruce, and he does that whenever he can't be out being Batman. And even when he can be out being Batman.

Likewise, Diana won't talk to him because she knows he's going through recovery from the surgery, but her feelings are hurt by all the suffering she's forced to witness out there.

As well as the literal damage to people's feelings when the Pyg takes away their ability to love.

But after all the events are over, and with Diana still feeling horrible due to the state of play in the world, Bruce makes it up to her by coming through for her - and all of the others - in the end.

**_So there you have it. Its taken about a year and a half, but the Clownverse has its latest completed story. What a relief, eh?!_**

_**As usual, I'd be very grateful if you could drop me a few words (or even as few as one, if you'd really like!) saying what you thought down in the review box. I do like to see them coming in - its a valediction that makes it all worthwhile****. And I'm always happy to interact if you'd like to chat on any of it, either here or better yet over on the Twitters.**_

_**But with that, I'll finally stop babbling and sign off...for now!**_

**_Until next time, then friends!_**

* * *

_**Because there will be a next time. The Clownverse is not dead. **_

_**It just takes some mighty big naps...**_


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